Consequences of a Huntress *The Rewrite*
by Sionna Dehr
Summary: Brianna wasn't sure how one could fall into another world. She barely believed they existed. As for Aragorn he simply wished she didn't land on top of him. Aragorn/OC Slow burn
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **Death at the Stones**

 **Author's Note:** _For those of you who remember this note being incredibly apologetic have no fear! I'm not discontinuing and re-writing this again. I just reread the prologue and felt it was incredibly inadequate and did a poor job of actually setting the scene. So, hopefully this one is better! I'll be editing all of tge other ones cery slowly. At first glance most of the issues are technical errors and author goofs, so it shouldn't be too difficult._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Darkness fell as the sun left the horizon behind and the day succumbed to the night. Figures hooded in dark ceremonial robes carrying torches that flickered an eerie green across the night-scape trudged up the steep incline of a hill from three sides. Each group ascended the hill and formed three half circles out of three groups of thirteen. One group dragged three victims behind them.

One girl, about eleven or twelve, hung limp between two of the robed persons eyes wide open and a dreamy smile on her face. Behind her was a woman dressed in a hospital gown with a profound baby bump still protruding from her stomach. Her matter blond hair fell over her shoulder and into her bowed head. Every movement of her lips formed a repeated question: "Where is my baby?" Wide eyes stared at nothing as the acolytes pulled her limp form along. The last was an old blind woman. She was different than the others. Though her body held the tale-tell signs of being drugged her mind seemed to have repelled the hallucinogenic. Every sound she made was loud and demanding: "Where am I? How dare you? Where are you taking me?"

Brianna barely breathed horrified at the scene she could see from the corner of her eye. The urge to sob, to run to them, and cut down each and every mother's daughter of them was almost too great to resist. It took every ounce of self-control in her possession to keep from doing so. The bracelets that housed her weapons hung limp around her wrists. They called to her, appealed to the part of her that begged her to begin the slaughter.

She couldn't.

A breath escaped her as the elder woman's voice echoed around her demanding that the three covens of sorceresses release her. This one was the strongest, the most defiant, and she would go last. She yelled at all of them, offered curses fowler than even Brianna had uttered in the past, and struck some of her assailants. The little girl's face remained serene as her lips formed the words of an old Disney song Brianna hadn't realized was still shown. The post-partem woman just hung limply in the hands of one group of thirteen muttering her single question: "Where's my Baby?"

Brianna, disgusted with herself, her aunt, and the entire situation, felt the nausea well up her throat. She swallowed it back down and chose to deal with it later, after everything was finished and she could mourn them appropriately. One shallow breath later and she pushed her emotions to the back of her mind. Then she sent her power into the ground and the wind to search for the soon-to-be murderess.

A moment later she found the bitch and she smiled grimly. The Morrighan was at the center of the stone circle and from the way she felt the wind hitting her skin she knew the Raiphahim had taken her Crone persona and form. This made her magically powerful, but physically disabled. Easier to kill so long as one had the right weapon. Brianna did.

Across from her Karen and Matt hid themselves behind three other pillars blessedly out of sight of the sorceresses. This time Brianna peered around her stone, lips pinched tight, and looked for the one hosting the ritual.

There she was!

Behind the elder walked a tall and proud old woman with a deceptively kind face and big blue-gold eyes that promised light and life and some sort of wisdom. All profane, and all a lie. This was the Morrighan and she was doing... something. Brianna and her team hadn't quite discovered what it was. The use of Stonehenge was a clue, a good clue, but beyond that they hadn't deciphered.

The three groups of thirteen entered the stone circle and the young girl was thrust into The Morrighan's waiting arms first. Brianna didn't tense into battle ready position. There was nothing that could be done for those already dead. At least, that was what she kept telling herself in the hopes it would make allowing these people to die such a gruesome death easier. It didn't.

Morrighan's voice crackled into the crisp autumn air and the dark, twisted, language of the Raiphahim - something Brianna had never really been able to understand - leeched out into the night. Only a few lines were uttered before a hand gnarled into dark claws and plunged itself into the girl's chest. She screamed and Brianna winced hating herself as she stood by and watched. Orders were orders.

 _They aren't my orders,_ she thought bitterly.

The next girl, woman, was thrust forward. Tears stained a heavily painted face and her full, red painted lips quivered in the dim green light. It made her look sick though Brianna wouldn't have been surprised if she was a bit. She looked like she had been snatched right out of the birthing room. Traces of blood wafted into her nostrils from the woman's direction.

Brianna swallowed bile again and continued to remain crouched in her place as the gnarled claw-like fingernails of The Morrighan plunged into her chest and ripped out her heart. The human didn't even scream. She simply let out a faint "ugnk" and slumped against the stone altar. Blood bubbled from the corner of her mouth.

Brianna's eyes watered. She blinked it away and sucked in a deep breath.

 _Bloody hell_ , she thought. _Bloody fucking hell!_

It wasn't as if she'd never seen a person die before, but to be the one to stand behind a pillar and just allow it to happen all because the woven gentry wanted to know where The Morrighan was trying to go was an entirely different matter. Such an act was worst than anything she'd done before, but they were orders from the Council of Nobles - a group of people she had no control over these days.

Was she sick for letting these women die or were her enemies sick because they did the deed in the first place? Brianna found this situation far more sinister because she and her team weren't doing anything. She hadn't returned to OLYMPUS just to let innocent people die!

There was nothing for it. Amorphasia was meant to disable human sacrifices. It also had no cure as Brianna had discovered so long ago.

 _Alyan,_ she thought as the image of the last time she'd seen him floated across her mind's eye.

The third woman was murdered as well. Sacrificed as those disgusting bastards liked to call it. She curled her lip. Whether she was more disgusted with herself or the people who made it their life's ambition to hurt others Brianna wasn't sure. All she knew was that the only way she could feel the least bit atoned for the sin of apathy was to slaughter each and every one of those sons of bitches as quickly and efficiently as possible.

At this point it was her call. Brianna let the final fell words die into the increasing wind before she stood drew back the bow she'd held strung onto the dry autumn ground and aimed the arrow loosely placed in her hold at the acolyte next to The Morrighan. Typically it was better to kill the sorceress who conducted the ceremony, but Brianna felt a deep sense of need to directly engage with her. The arrow flew and the acolyte crumbled. The body hit the ground with a muffled thump. The groups tensed and Brianna unstrung her bow, allowed it to morph back into her quiver, and allowed her knives to materialize into her hands. She stepped into the green light.

"The angel of death has come for you, The Morrighan," she said coldly.

Brianna didn't give anyone time to respond. She didn't even give Karen and Matt a minute or two to get themselves situated. Blades flashed in the moonless sky that glittered with thick dumps of stars and sliced through the living necks of two sorcerers closest to her. Black blood pooled around the bodies as they slowly crumbled to the earth like broken porcelain dolls. Without much thought she moved to her next victim, and the next, and the next. None of the little sycophants mattered to her. Each teal eye was fixed on the dark, bottomless pools of a distinctly enraged Morrighan.

Once Karen and Matt took control of the fighting Brianna grinned and leapt for the Raiphahim. She pushed fire around the blades. The Morrighan used her magic - a mistake - and stopped the flooding onset of white hot flame. Brianna came up underneath her and thrust up. The long knife's blade, already stained with black blood, entered her stomach with a satisfying slick squelch.

The blade's strike wasn't deep enough. The Morrighan stepped back with a snarl and hurled another glob of black magic toward her. Brianna blocked it with a wall of silver wind and pushed it out and against the torrent of darkness. The sorceress maintained her strength. Brianna chuckled darkly and let go of her control and just forced a steady stream of the Light Wind magic. The Morrighan grunted and flew backwards. She hit the ground closest to three intricately placed pillars of Stonehenge. They glowed red - a stark contrast to the rest of the circle which glowed an eerie green - and the power twisted and turned into what Brianna supposed was a sort of door.

Brianna approached, knives ready to strike in different places that would assuredly reach her heart. The Morrighan struggled to launch another attack, but Brianna broke through it again and stabbed down. The blades entered her heart.

The Morrighan shuddered. Clawed fingers grabbed Brianna's shoulders and a sharp gasp to escape her lips. Pain lanced through her shoulder when she attempted to struggle out of her grasp. The decrepit hag chuckled out green blood. Brianna wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor that followed.

"My last gift to my cousin," she rasped

Brianna barely moved to try and dislodge The Morrighan's nails before the witch shoved her away. She only had time to look and see the top of the archway pass above her head. Then the world became dark and Brianna felt… nothing.

She fell down, deep down, through an endless void. Time seemed to stall. Her lungs didn't seem to want to work. Every muscle hung limp as she floated through the vast endless night of the void. There was nothing to breathe, nothing to hold onto, touch, or feel. Each strand of hair remained unmoved, a wrinkle of clothes stationary, and Brianna had the sick feeling that her enemies must have done it.

They had finally killed her.

Then a distant sound, like the wind rushing through trees, met her ears. Brianna wanted to move her head in the direction of the noise, but her body still refused to cooperate. A curious thing happened at this point. Her ears popped and heralded a loud rushing in her ears. Startled her lips parted and her eyes widened only to abruptly close later when her body burst out into daylight.

For a moment air cradled her body in its gentle hand and held her suspended. Then the wind picked up, her body buckled inward, and the air left her lungs. She fell.

Briefly.

"Oof!"

It took her a moment to realize that she'd landed on a person. Another moment passed and her world became night.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **An Unexpected Journey**

 **Author's Notes:** _I've edited this chapter again /:. Why? Because I was unsatisfied with what I'd originally written and needed to fix it. So, here's a better version of the chapter with Brianna's arrival expanded upon. For those of you who are new, enjoy the chapters that follow and just know that the ones with no note about being edited will probably be dreadful. Lol_

* * *

She wasn't sure where she was or what even happened. All she knew was she'd blacked out, completely faded from the conscious world for a few seconds, and came to shortly later. The difference between those two moments in time were slightly startling. Before she blacked out Brianna thought that she might have landed on something or someone. After the fact, as she blinked into wakefulness, Brianna discovered her arms and legs pinned down by a great hulking man. She didn't know much about this man other than he was big, could hold her down with seemingly relative ease, and smelled extremely ripe.

The intensity of that smell made her nose wrinkle in distaste, but it also served as a boon to completely clear the fog in her mind. This brought her to a more pressing issue than body odor. A sharp, smooth and cold weight pressed lightly, but firmly against her neck. Brianna squirmed and felt the pressure bare down upon her ever so slightly harder. Despite the urge to take in a big gulping swallow in an effort to calm her nerves she thought that the better course of action was to lay there in the patchy ground of coarse grass and dead leaves. If she wanted answers the best way to go about getting them was to allow this strange man to work through whatever issue he had with her.

The sword felt too heavy. The man's clothes seemed to be made of the consistency of hard, stiff, leather. If her own uniform was made of anything else Brianna knew the leather would have started to chafe her skin. Reluctantly she met his gaze. Blue eyes stared down at her full of mistrust and suspicion. His beard wasn't long, but unkempt and scrappy. If she had to guess she would have figured that the man took a knife to his face periodically to keep the thing from getting too long.

 _He's a wild man and we have them in certain parts of Europe and the United States, but… the leather and…_ she ceased her pondering when she saw s glimmer of chainmail on his shoulder.

Cold dread seemed to have punched her in the gut. Chain mail hadn't been worn by elves, humans and High Fae since the middle of the eighteenth century. To encounter it in this moment meant two things: she either traveled back in time, or she was no longer on Earth.

 _Well, either way, I'm screwed,_ she thought.

"Who are you and how have you come upon my company?" The man asked.

Brianna would have answered as best she could, but the sword pressed against her throat made speaking rather treacherous. She pointedly glared at him. His eyes, blue like sapphires and probably the only attractive thing about him, met her expression head on. Each tested the other to see which of them would break first. Brianna intended to be the one who would win. She had at least one hundred and thirty more years of experience than he did.

After what seemed an eternity he pulled the sword away and Brianna gulped a goodly amount of air thankful to be able to breath without slicing her throat open. She waited until her body felt rejuvenated from breathing normally before answering.

"Who wishes to know?" She asked fully intending to be difficult.

There wasn't a real reason for her being impertinent, but the man rubbed her already frayed emotions in a way that made her want to strike back instead of respond. Said individual raised an eyebrow and angled his sword in a way that was a tad too close to a major artery in her neck. It took all of her willpower to keep from glancing in the direction of that precariously placed blade.

This time she decided it was better for her health if she simply answered his questions. There was a greater possibility of him giving her answers she sorely needed if she cooperated.

"My name is Brianna Davis," she introduced, deciding on the name she took among humans to better fit in, "I'm an elven huntress from OLYMPUS and was fighting an evil entity called a Raiphahim when I fell through… something and landed among your company."

 _None of whom I can see any evidence of as of now,_ she thought and willed herself to refrain from glancing around for them.

"That is quite the tale," the man said after a time.

Brianna's rope of patience shortened ever so slightly. Why on earth would she lie about this?

"Who is this OLYMPUS do you serve? Which land do they hail from?" He asked.

Land? She glanced at his sword and then took better stock of his general appearance and attire. Wherever she was the people likely didn't know what a cell phone or a car was. It also meant that they probably wouldn't know what the words "democracy" or "republic" meant if she tried to explain to them what the "State of Alaska" was.

"I..." she paused.

How was she supposed to explain any of this without being painfully specific?

One glance at the man and she decided to make a valiant attempt, "OLYMPUS is based in the State of Alaska which is part of the United States of America. I was born in... I was born in Earithnaelleon the capitol haven of the the elven peoples on Earth. I was in England at a place called Stonehenge when I fought and fell here," she said, voice wavering as her mind slowly became consumed with the increasingly frightening suspicion that she was no longer on Earth.

Her fears were confirmed when the human's eyebrows angled downward, clearly confused, and he asked, "Earithnaelleon? I have never heard of such a city before."

Brianna was quite surprised the man who was clearly human could effortlessly pronounce the name of the elven capital. Many younger elves had trouble with the name at the beginning and they learned the ancient tongue the moment they began to her astonishment Brianna closed her eyes and inwardly cursed using every vile word she could think of. Humans wouldn't know Earithnaeleon, but OLYMPUS was clearly foreign to him as well. On Earth most humans would have recognized that particular faux acronym. Greek mythology had influenced western culture for many, many years.

"Have you heard of anything I've just explained to you?" She asked desperately.

The shrill tone to her voice inspired an unstoppable cringe to roll through her. Could she have sounded any more pathetic than she did now?

 _Cool it, Bri,_ she thought, _losing your shit isn't going to get you out of this._

If it was ever possible for a hard, cold gaze to become harder and colder this man proved it to be so. His eyes held no warmth within and Brianna could see he was on the edge of taking her life and being done with it. Maybe such a thing wouldn't be so bad? She didn't deserve to live anyway not after abandoning her people in the way she had.

"Lies will not work on me, elleth. Continue to do so and the consequences will be severe," he warned.

There were many ways Brianna could have handled that remark. For instance, she could have calmly explained to him how she wasn't lying and take the time to use logic and reason to bring him to her level of understanding. She could have been patient, calm, and gracious in the face of this man's clear and present ignorance. Had she handled her situation that way Brianna may have been able to quiet the man's overly suspicious attitude. Brianna employed none of these things and, instead, opted for the emotional, borderline hysteric, anger that flushed through her.

"Lies?" She snapped, "Why the fucking hell would I lie about a thing like that you inconsiderate bastard!"

Immediately Brianna regretted her choice of words, but there was no taking them back. She buried the horrified wince deep down within her and continued to allow her emotions to burn and show this stranger everything he needed to know. When was the last time she actually felt anything strongly? She couldn't remember, but she burned all the same.

 _What was that about not loosing your cool, Davis?_ She wondered irately.

It had been many years since she felt this close to hysteria. The emotion wasn't pleasant as it was, but the memories accompanying were worse. Brianna closer her eyes and went limp into the earth as she tried to regain her typical line between apathy and wrath.

"Strider, maybe we should listen to her," chimed a youthful male voice from her far right.

Brianna blinked and had to keep herself from lifting her head to see who spoke. Clearly he had to be one of the companions this man she now knew to be Strider spoke of! Hope rose. Was it possible that she had an advocate of a sort?

"Frodo, there is great chance that this elf woman may be in league with the Enemy. We cannot take risks," the man dubbed Strider said.

"There is little evidence she is with the Riders, Strider! Give her an opportunity to explain herself in a way we can understand then we will judge for ourselves," this Frodo beseeched.

She held her breath and waited. Strider didn't look convinced that this was the best course of action and she didn't blame him. Whatever elves existed in this world she suspected they looked very different from her. In fact she doubted they sounded like her if the conversations the humans were having was anything to go by.

In a moment, Brianna managed to grasp the gracious patience that eluded her earlier and released a calming breath. It was time to review the past few minutes of her conversation with this smelly human and figure out a way to approach him from a position of reason.

"Please," she said and this time her voice didn't betray how pants-wettingly scared she was, "I don't know what sort of situation I fell into, but you have to believe when I say that if there are any sort of evil bastard trying to hurt any of you then I am just as much as their enemy as you are."

Strider fixed her with his cold sapphire stare and Brianna held it this time allowing her expression to reflect more of the woman in her than the warrior. It was her hope that she conveyed how afraid and lost she was, yet bring this strange man to a point where he would be convinced that she didn't mean them harm. She hated doing it, hated being vulnerable, but something told her that this Strider wouldn't believe her unless she showed something that was less like the cold hearted huntress she had allowed herself to become.

"How is that, miss?" He asked.

Here, she let steel creep into her expression as she replied, "I kill dark things. If you are not a monster I will not hurt you."

Strider's facade broke at that declaration much to Brianna's relief. His expression turned contemplative and it softened his features enough to make him seem less like the scraggly, dark wildman and more of a person. Someone who did have feelings and could connect with normal people should he choose to.

"I am at an impasse. We cannot linger to listen to lengthy tales. The Riders follow us even now and they hunt you, Frodo," he said.

"I know," replied this faceless Frodo, "but I also know she is no threat to us."

Strider narrowed his eyes, "How is this possible?"

" _It_ is shaking in my pocket."

Brianna blinked. What could possibly hate her enough to quiver in this Frodo's pocket? Did he have some sort of dark creature traveling with him?

Strider fixed his gaze back on her. She chewed her lip. He lifted his sword away from her neck and removed himself from her smaller body. Brianna sighed and went limp against the ground for a moment before she began to rise into a sitting position. Strider stood and walked away a few paces. She turned to her right to find herself face to face with her impromptu lawyer. He was short, really short, and he didn't even have a bit of a beard. In fact he resembled a fae with how slight his body seemed even though he looked a bit chubby in a few places. He also looked a bit hungry and ripe - like he hadn't been off the road for quite some time. She frowned, but didn't remark. Her little rescuer likely already knew his state on some level.

At this time Brianna chose to inspect the rest of her environment and discovered the attendance of other small men hovering around a pony some six feet past Frodo. They gaped at her, eyes wide and wary, and didn't move much from their crouched positions. She sighed. Those men, or boys, or males, or whatever the little ones were supposed to be didn't quite fit the mold of what a member of the Fae were supposed to be. They also didn't seem to look much like dwarves.

"I do not know what to believe," Strider said after a short passage of time.

Brianna tore her gaze away from the strange child-sized boys and settled it on her assailant. Her shoulders moved up and down in one quick motion. What did he want her to say at this point? He wouldn't believe her even if she repeated it over and over again.

"You're a bit short for an elf, are you?" Asked one of the little men Brianna was sure wasn't Frodo.

She pursed her lips. Naturally the question of her height would come into question. She wasn't that short!

"My ancestry has a bit of human dilution within and though it's watered down the human blood remains. The women in that family were short, so that's my inheritance," she said testily.

Queen Athena Parthenel ven Turthen had married one of the children of Laurel Moruni back before her mentor still used her elven name. Professor Moruni held a taste for human men. Though she never bound them to her in life and death the professor loved each husband as equally as the other. Her resulting children over the millennia permeated the world as the best witches and wizards known to her people. Unfortunately, this also meant that the Aldura line, once it married back into elven royalty again, became diluted with that human DNA. It was why Brianna never grew beyond five feet and two inches.

"If you truly are from another world how did you get here?" Strider interrogated.

Brianna shrugged, "There was this ritual that a Raiphahim - half elven half angel - performed. Human sacrifices were involved and my superior told my team and I to refrain from saving the victims. She killed them and then we attacked. I killed her, but she pulled me and I fell into wherever this place is."

All of her impromptu companions looked perplexed by her explanation. One who was a bit chubbier than the rest leaned forward.

"What's an angel?" He asked. "Sounds like something fanciful to me."

Brianna blinked. How was she supposed the explain what an angel was? They were strange beings at the most, but to explain what they were would be incredibly difficult.

"They're… heavenly beings of… er… power and authority over nature," she explained and winced a bit at the attempt.

 _I feel like I just explained what I am instead,_ she thought.

"What were you doing? Why were you ordered to allow innocent people to die?" Strider asked, visually appalled.

She pursed her lips. Why indeed? She had asked such a question once and was told the terrible truth by her aunt. That was so long ago, back when she hadn't even grown into adulthood and was just beginning to learn the terrible evil she was destined to face as a huntress.

"Because they inject some sort of serum into their blood stream that makes them lose their have never been able to find a cure for it, so the best we've been able to do is give them a quick and painless death. As much as I hate to say it, sacrificial ceremonies tend to kill quickly," she explained.

The party collectively turned various shades of green. Even the hard, weather worn, Strider seemed repulsed. Brianna turned her gaze to the ground and worried her lips with her top teeth. Learning about the serum's effects had been one thing. Seeing it added to the gravity of the reality. She had never questioned her aunt's decision to allow for a quick and easy death afterwards.

"That's horrible! Who would do such a thing?" Asked one of the younger looking child-men.

"Heartless sons of bitches, that's who," she spat bitterly.

"That indeed," Strider muttered and met her gaze, a sort of decision clearly reached, "You know little of this land, I presume, so if I may offer my services to you as a guide?"

Brianna shot him a mistrustful glance, "Guide to where?"

"Rivendell, or Imladris if you prefer, home of the elves of this particular region. Lord Elrond is head of that household and can possibly help you return to your world," he offered.

She smirked and added in the most sugary-sweet voice Brianna could push through her vocal chords, "Or lock me under house arrest to keep me from some evil, diabolical, plan of whoever it is you're running from may have concocted?"

Strider had the decency not to deny a word of what she said, but he also didn't confirm it. The man just stood on the other end of the small camp with an unimpressed frown on his face. Brianna sighed and stood. Even at her five feet and two inches she had to tilt her head up just to look him in the eyes directly. He was quite tall - even for a human.

"I cannot say for your intentions, but if what you say is true then our enemies would lust for your knowledge of the other world. I believe it would be better if you accompanied us to Imladris to meet with your kin," he said.

Brianna inclined her head, "Alright, I'll take that. It's logical. Now, tell me, who are your enemies and why are they chasing you?"

The silence that met her ears was deafening. The men presented a good show of "not looking" at the other. Brianna huffed and placed her small hands on her hips.

"Really? Either I'm with the enemy and you chance me just killing the lot of you where you stand, or I'm a friend and I don't even know what I need to help protect you from! Just say it!" She said, exasperated.

Frodo broke first.

"It's a ring. I carry a ring that an evil being named Sauron wishes to find. It's part of him, it wants to get back to him. To achieve this goal he has sent out thing... wraiths called the Nazgul to find me, kill me, and take the ring back to their master. We travel to Rivendell to keep it hidden and safe," he said shakily.

She didn't say anything, not at first. Brianna stared at all of them - Frodo who spoke, Strider who mistrusted her, and the nameless other little people who gaped at her too intimidated to speak - unable to quite come to terms with what she heard. A ring. A dark Lord. Wraiths that hunted them. All to get back a ring.

She blinked.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? Did you just tell me that you're running for your lives all because some asshole wants their jewelry back?" She asked bluntly.

* * *

Strider never believed he experienced everything there was to behold in the eighty-seven years he had been alive. This elven woman with hair like the burning surface of the sun and eyes like the post-dawn sky counted as one of those things he had most definitely never seen before. Her clothes were strange – a form fitting combination of cloth and armor – and even embarrassing. One time during their trek she ventured in front of them and Strider beheld the full view of what was possibly the fullest posterior he'd ever seen on any elf. For a good fifteen minutes he barely noticed where he stepped until she turned to him to inquire after a path of jagged rocks before them and whether the Hobbits could handle it. Aragorn – as cool as he could manage – explained to her how Hobbit feet worked.

There was much to her that troubled him including the way she seemed to become an instant favorite with the hobbits. It very well could have been related to how difficult it was for _him_ to gain their trust. Yet this outlander – a true outlander – fell right on top of him seemingly out of the sky and was met with barely a grain of suspicion. It was nonsensical at first until he silently admitted that she was quite prettier than he was and also closer to them in height. The way she casually walked arm in arm with Merry and Pippin was almost picturesque and very much worrying.

Her reaction to the ring was what astounded him the most. Frodo had the good sense not to take the thing out and show it to her and for that he was thankful; however, the sheer irreverence and lack of fear towards the talisman shocked him. Isuildur's Bane - just a piece of jewelry yet it promised so much power to the one who possessed it. Brianna Davis didn't seem to think so.

They had continued on in their journey once the company shook themselves of the stunned stupor she placed them in with her blunt way of describing their predicament. Strider was too troubled to respond at the time, but Merry and Pippin seemed to meet with her particular way of thinking and responded thusly:

"Oh aye! When you put it like that, it seems rather ridiculous! Almost like that squabble old Bilbo and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins always had over Bag End!" Pippin piped in.

"Yeah," Merry agreed, "Why put so much stock in a ring you haven't seen or touched for almost three thousand years?"

"I know elves older than that," Brianna had growled.

"It's not even a pretty ring, it's just dull and gold. Doesn't even glitter when the light hits it," Sam had remarked.

Frodo had been the only one of the hobbits, in the end, who looked torn between agreeing with them and telling them exactly how dangerous the ring actually was. He, himself, didn't know that tidbit, so the lad remained silent while the four laughed. Strider had offered as much silent comfort as he could.

At this moment, as the light of the day faded into eventide, Strider contemplated their predicament while he tied low-hanging branches together with a bit of rope they had on hand. Low-hanging clouds hovered in the distance and moved slowly with the wind, but evidently promised rain possibly that night. It was a small contribution he could make to their company while Brianna showed the hobbits how to build a fire that would only smolder and glow dimly, but give out enough heat to fill their small tree alcove. Sam had been the one to catch on the quickest, so she patiently instructed him while the others watched.

 _And not but a few hours ago she trivialized our entire venture,_ he thought irately.

Despite this Strider wondered what it was, exactly, that she faced in the past for her to look at a magical ring and proclaim it to be a "bit of jewelry". What was worse than Sauron?

He made his bed against a thick trunk after grabbing a bit of jerky from their food-pack that Sam took upon himself to hand out. Absently he glanced up at the sparse branches and blinked. They were thicker, wider and new leaves grew stiffly out and allowed for little space for rain drops to spill through. He narrowed his eyes at the elleth sitting next to Frodo with a bright grin on her face as she spoke of this self-moving thing she named a "car".

There wasn't a single iota of a song note sung from her throat. Even if their had been such a thing how had she manipulated the growth of that tree so quickly? Brianna Davis was certainly a riddle and one he intended to solve - and soon.

One by one the Hobbits faded into various forms of sleep around them. Frodo slept the closest to the fire while the others settled against the thick tree trunks further away. He noted the ella's expression - the slight downward turn of her lips and the furrow of her brow - and crossed his arms. If she was an enemy the he would deal with her when the time came.

As if she could read his thoughts Brianna Davis met his gaze. Strider remained stoic as one of her eyebrows lifted and she mouthed the word "what?". He resisted the urge to respond. There was no need to confront her about whatever it was she did as of yet. He didn't have enough evidence to combat the likely slew of denials she would utter the moment he did so.

 _I will bide my time, lady, and you will reveal yourself soon_ , he thought.

She held his gaze for a while longer. Then with a shrug she turned away and settled into the nest of leaves and propped her head with his wool cloak he'd given her earlier.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **False Ground**

 **Author's Note:** _I've edited Chapter 2 (July 14th, 2018) and will likely keep doing so for every chapter until I'm satisfied the content makes sense and most of the glaring errors are removed. As I am adding extra bits and pieces to the scenes thost glaring errors might still be there in some way or another, but I hope it's not as bad as it was. If you are a new reader and don't see the announcement of content editing in an author's note just know that it's a work in progress for that chapter._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Brianna woke the next day draped by a ragged, brown cloak. She shifted slightly, unsure of what to make of this strange object. Cloak? When did people start wearing cloaks on Earth? A familiar rank odor met her nostrils and she grimaced. This wasn't her usual blanket she wrapped herself in nestled in the warm comfort of her own bed. The ground was cold and frost had formed in her hair and the creases of her clothes.

 _Right,_ she thought, _I'm not on Earth anymore._

She pushed from the ground and glanced around the campsite. The light frost that coated her clothes crackled and popped as she moved. She grimaced at the sound. The unfamiliarity of the day already had her in a less than charitable mood. Dead leaves and grass clung to the creases in her braided hair. Above was the canopy Strider tied to try and give them shelter from the bit of rain in the night. She smiled while she inspected the clever little leaflets she'd grown and killed silently in the night. They were quickly fading into a soft russet brown and would fall away before Strider could take a really good look at them in the light.

When Brianna looked away from her handiwork her sight caught the severe gaze of Strider she winked at him. It took every part of her to refrain from breaking character. His expression read mistrust and a sense that he had, actually, noticed the change in the tree canopy and did not trust the occurrence at all. This didn't just make her a curiosity and potential ally. Now it made her a threat. All because she didn't feel like getting soaked to the bone in cold rain and be unable to dry from it!

She shrugged and looked away to inspect the Hobbits. All four seemed completely oblivious to what Strider had the presence of mind to notice. Sam, for instance, stooped over a little fire making a very light breakfast. Brianna frowned.

"How much of your provisions do you have left?" She asked.

"We have some," Sam replied, "from our previous travels, but Strider made certain we packed more."

Brianna's brow furrowed and her frown deepened if such a thing was possible. Sam glanced away from his food to meet it. He simply shrugged.

"I'm not one, Miss Brianna, to blame you for a hapless circumstance you seemed to stumble in. If you can truly help us, then you're my friend and what's mine is yours," he said.

She only nodded in reply because what she wanted to say was too rude. To give up food for a stranger! Of course she heard of people doing that, but certainly she posed a different case? Maybe the reality was that hers wasn't so different and she just feeling too sorry for herself. It certainly didn't help matters if that was the case.

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked.

"To Weathertop where we might find Gandalf," Strider explained, "but before that we brave the Marshes."

Brianna blinked and blurted out, "Marshes?"

Strider raised a brow. She mimicked him while trying not to turn green. Surely he would know why marshes could be undesirable to elves!

"It will likely be a five day journey if we persevere," he continued.

She grimaced. Bogs, marshes, swamps - all of these messed with her otherwise perfect senses! That was nothing; however, compared to the moving ground below. It would mean tripping over suddenly revealed stringy roots, stepping into pot holes, and slipping on putrid mud.

With a very put upon sigh Brianna accepted the rehydrated venison soup he made and gingerly sipped the broth. For something made from rationed camp supplies it was tasty. The vegetables floated soggily along the surface of the thick brown broth and it seemed as though he had made an effort to insert some seasoning. The venison had been salted before dehydrated - of course - and likely added to that seasoned flavor.

"When we enter the marshes we will not be able to cook with flame. The air is too thick and the wood wet. Bread and cheese will be our main course of food," Strider announced.

Brianna bit her lip firmly to keep the potentially damaging response in her mind from being voiced. She was already in a precarious position where he was concerned. Adding another reason to distrust or even dislike her would certainly make their tense group dynamic worse than it already was. A glance to Strider confirmed some of that sense. He frowned at her as he ate. His eyes showed both mistrust and suspicion. She frowned and looked away to study the antics of Merry and Pippin who were recounting some adventure concerning Sam and some female hobbit at a pub.

Her heart throbbed a heavy, sick pang of longing for days when, once, she had that sort of camaraderie. All those days had long since faded when she became engrossed in her hunt for Ba'al. When was it last she smiled like Frodo did at Sam's embarrassment? When last had she been the cause of such embarrassment for her own particular enjoyment?

 _I_ _have loved and lost so much because of that bastard I'd forgotten to live,_ she thought bitterly.

And, worst of all, she missed her friends - the living and the departed.

"Miss Brianna, are you alright?"

Brianna started and turned to face Strider. She reached up to her cheek and touched the dry dampness of the few tears she'd shed. Oh damn! That was not something she'd intended to show anyone!

"Fine," she replied shortly, "Just memories."

He studied her a moment longer before asking, "How old are you?"

She smirked and crossed her arms. At least there was something for her to tease this stoic man about.

"Bit bold, Ranger. If you must know; however, I am one hundred and sixty-nine years old," she said coyly.

He raised an eyebrow, "You are quite young for your race. Very few have the permission of their elders to wield their weapons or even be sent into battle."

She slapped a few fluttering strands of hair out of her eyes and continued eating her food. After a few mouthfuls she decided a bit of personal history to give context was in order.

"I went to my first battle when I was sixty years old - not even a full adult."

A sharp hiss met her ears while she studied the remnants of her food. Brianna shifted again so she could meet his gaze directly. The shock in his eyes was apparent and she almost felt pleasure from causing it. If he wanted to be judgmental or suspicious then he needed to face the consequences.

"I see truth in those words, but for what purpose youths must fight so early in their life I cannot surmise," he said.

Both shoulders lifted in a shrug and she reached out her bowl arm to hand it back to Sam, "I believe it has something to do with rampant evil and dark forces needing to be monitored. They used to roam free doing damage wherever they may, but my aunt put a stop to that when she founded OLYMPUS. Elves, dwarves, faeries of many kinds, dragons, pixties, and so many more joined to give help anyway they could. Some went on hunts. Some taught important lessons, and some made armor, battle suits, stealth wear, and weapons. Everyone does something and no one is left believing they can do little for the cause. If there are misfits those misfits become lumped together and form their own social team. We're the only ones who do what we do and no one else can replace us. We protect Earth."

And she smiled, remembering, how she broke from initiate to protégée with six other students - two of which were seniors and consequently above them. The silence that followed her soliloquy startled her from long ago memories and brought her back to Arda. The Hobbits and Strider watched her with rapt attention as if waiting to hear more. She waved them off.

"That's all for now! Don't we have a swamp to find?" She asked and stood.

As she marched off to Sam intending to help with the dishes Brianna swore she heard Strider mutter the word "marshes" under his breath. It made her smile. The bastard was about to regret that path.

* * *

"Son of a fucking bitch!" Brianna exclaimed after she slid into a hidden pool of muddy water.

Strider halted and released long suffering sigh. In a day and a morning the elleth managed to fall just as much as the hobbits did. Irately he turned back to help her out of current situation she found herself in. Brianna and the hobbits were proving to be a right quintet of a nuisance as they made their long trek through the extensive marshlands. The Hobbits were generally uncoordinated. Brianna Davis, on the other hand, had this tendency to become distracted by the dead things of long ago she could spy in the water. Instead of running away from them like most sane individuals she scurried toward them and slipped into boggy pools or thick puddles of mud. If arcane bodies were not her aim she merely lost her footing along the slimy ground in what Strider came to believe as the pair of the most unreliable boots he had ever came into contact with. The moment they reached Imladris he was determined to remove her from the temptation of ever donning another pair again!

She looked at him now from where she struggled to leverage herself out of the boggy pool as much as possible. He held out a hand. The elleth glared at it for a minute before deigning to accept his aid and allowed him to pull her out. It wasn't much of a chore. She was light despite the hard grip she possessed and the sureness of her body as it lithely regained its balance.

"I fucking hate swamps!" She murmured for what seemed to him to be the one thousandth time.

He turned away from her and the foul language most unbecoming of an eleven lady spewing from her lips. After a few minutes of perceived peace one of the hobbits slipped and fell into a pool. This time Brianna managed to retrieve him without too much failure though Strider had to pull both out in this end more out of his peace of mind than her actually needing his help. That particular instance could have been worse, he supposed, but it still left him highly on edge. Clearly the marshes weren't the most ideal of paths, but he hadn't been able to come up with something better that would have taken them away from the road and maintain a relatively quick trek to Lord Elrond's house.

They continued their journey cold and tired and hungry. The hobbits moaned and groaned about needing food and sustenance. Brianna didn't say a word. He'd studied her once during a time of rest where she gazed at the clouds of disgusting bugs floating around seeking the most ideal place to slurp away at their skin.

"What do you call them here?" She asked.

"Call what?" He asked.

She swatted at her arms and pulled a face. Strider allowed a smirk to break his typical stoic demeanor. As was observed by Sam when the minute insects began to infest their bare skin the things seemed to particularly like Brianna.

"These damn little bastards that keep trying to eat me!" She snapped.

He chuckled, "We call them midges. It is where the name Midgewater Marshes came from."

She pulled a face and hissed another foul name that made Strider wince.

"We call them mosquitoes," she said after checking the bare places on her body over again.

Strider wasn't entirely sure how to take this small offering of information. He didn't have much time to digest it because Sam suddenly found himself and their little pony, Bill, knee deep in boggy water. This time it was Brianna who released a long suffering sigh and began to move in their direction. He grabbed her arm and shook his head.

"Stay with the other hobbits and don't stray too far from them," he said.

He wondered if she would argue with him, but Brianna merely turned away and approached a very much amused (and covered in boggy muck) Frodo. Strider watched her a moment longer before he moved to help Sam out of his predicament.

"Steady there Samwise Gamgee! Let me find a firm foot to pull you out," he said.

Sam stopped moving and managed to calm Bill from where he was stuck three feet or so away while Strider searched for ground that was the least soft. In this instance, much to his annoyance, there wasn't much he could choose from, so Strider made the best of one place that seemed the lesser of many evils. He reached out with a branch in one hand and the pony's reigns in another. Carefully he began to tug them forward.

The hobbit and the pony slowly began their ascent out of the boggy pool they collectively disturbed. Strider worked the branch stepping and leaning when needed. As Sam and Bill seemed to approach the bank the ground beneath Strider's boot shifted and he halted his progress. Sam and Bill ceased their ascent both frozen in place while Strider allowed the ground to settle. He moved backwards a foot onto surprisingly solid ground. This allowed Sam and Bill to move forward a fraction more.

With each later step Strider found his foot met with a firm patch grass. He didn't complain nor did he turn to look at the one he suspected was responsible for he sudden stable ground. All that mattered was retrieving Sam and Bill from the bog which he did. He allowed Brianna – who somehow managed to find dry kindling and logs in a boggy swamp – to light a fire for Sam to get warm.

"I would chide you for not watching where you were going, Mr Gamgee, but I would be a bit of a hypocrite if I did," she chided good teasingly.

Sam laughed, "I wouldn't say that, Miss Brianna. You're accidents are more on purpose than mine. I couldn't see the bog. You just keep getting distracted."

"Well, yes, but the preservation of the bodies! I've never seen swamps keep them in such pristine condition on Earth! You must give this historian a bit of leeway as she pursues a point of study," she replied.

Strider watched her interact with Sam as the two proceeded to concoct a broth based soup for the rest of them. Frodo interjected a few quips in Sam's defense while Merry and Pippin helped toast a few slices of bread. She smiled at whatever it was Frodo said and pulled a few stray strands of bronze hair away from her eyes. The slight moldy wind played a cheerful dance with her braided, clumped, strands. Her cheeks and neck were stained with mud and there were several tears in the fabric of her uniform. Yet her skin faintly glowed in the waning afternoon light as if she was a faint star in the sky.

She was attractive. She was cheerful. She got along well with the hobbits. She also had some sort of command over the earth around her.

She was very dangerous.

* * *

When they finally stumbled out of the marshes on the fifth day all of them were in some bedraggled state. High hills rose before them and caused a groan of discontent from the hobbits. Despite that particular pending torment all of them agreed it was a sight better than staying a day longer in the marshlands.

"Where are we?" asked Frodo though his question was more directed at the runes than the hill country.

"The Weather Hills. That is Weathertop, The Old Road. We may reach it tomorrow at noon if we head straight towards it. I supposed we had better do so," explained Strider with a slight frown on his face.

"Why suppose exactly?" Brianna asked while inspecting her nearly ruined boots.

"Simply that when we do get there I am uncertain as to what we may find. It is close to the road," he informed her.

Brianna nodded, "And let me guess, the road is lower than the hills?"

"Far too low. We will be too far out in the open and completely vulnerable," Strider agreed.

"Yet we don't want to wait at this Weathertop," she clarified.

"Indeed," he replied.

Brianna frowned and crossed her arms. If this Weathertop was close enough to the road then it would be easy to get to. She shook her head.

"If your aim is to avoid being seen this is far too risky," she stated.

Strider inclined his head, "I know. My reservations are similarly inclined."

Brianna stared at him unsure of exactly what to make of this new develop in their tense relationship. To hear this man openly agree with her seemed incredibly absurd, yet there it was. The hobbits were open books. She knew where most of them stood and even Sam, the least trusting, didn't seem too threatened by her. In fact there were moments where he seemed incredibly awed by her presence, but Frodo had told her shortly after meeting that Sam had always wanted to see and speak with an elf. She was the first one who spoke the common tongue in complete, easy to understand sentences. Which was saying much since she came from a world that managed to put a few men on the moon thus sparking a fervent science fiction space odyssey trend in literature.

And she had yet to even talk about _that._

"But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?" asked Frodo from his place beside Brianna.

"Who _is_ this Gandalf I've heard so much about?" She asked.

"He's a wizard," Sam replied with a shudder.

"He's part human?" She asked.

Wizards on Earth were children of elves and humans. Sometimes the magic skipped generations as the elven blood was overtaken by a thickening human bloodline, but they existed and influenced the world of men in their own way be it nefarious or otherwise. With wizards it was far more difficult to decipher which side they were on.

"Are wizards part human in your world?" Strider asked.

"Yes."

"Gandalf is far from human and he is certainly not an elf. His power is strange and greater than the most powerful elf who walks Arda," Strider replied.

Brianna cocked her head to one side and considered his words before asking, "Who is the most powerful elf in Arda?"

"That answer," Strider replied, "will depend on who you ask."

She nodded, "A reasonable answer."

"Gandalf has been a wise counselor to us all for many centuries. He was a mentor to me for many years and became a friend I've come to trust above most others. None have surpassed his wisdom to my knowledge," Strider said sagely.

A far, distant expression etched itself across his features. Brianna studied him fascinated by the way this wizard seemed to be remembered both fondly and reverently. That fondness added a softness to his otherwise rough and rugged features that Brianna hadn't seen before. It mellowed him and made him more relatable than before. Part of her, the part that always wanted to remain obstinate, didn't want to humanize him. That bit of herself wanted to keep him as an adversary and paint him as a continued force to be reckoned with. The other, more sane, part of her saw that humanity break through the mask of harshness and mistrust. For that moment Brianna saw him as a man and that image didn't leave her even when he remembered himself and returned to his usual gruff persona.

"To answer your question, Frodo, the hope is faint. If he comes this way at all he may not pass through Bree, and he may not know what we are doing. unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all round. Indeed, there are many birds and beasts in this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil than they are," Strider explained.

Brianna knew she looked just as white as Frodo did at the mention of untrustworthy animals. What kind of place was this? Birds couldn't be trusted? She met the smaller man's gaze and made herself smile.

"Well, we should at least test the waters. It may be that hot wizard friend somehow managed to catch up with us, though I hope to the Triune he didn't brace the swamp," she said cheerfully.

Strider merely shook his head and stepped into the hills beyond. Brianna followed behind the hobbits while periodically glancing at the sky. She could try to shield them, but with the land so wide and open it wouldn't be done without considerable effort.

 _Or at least without special powers. They would know what I am by then. It'll be impossible to hide it if I do_ _ **that**_ , she thought.

The proceeded in silence. The air felt calm – normal – and not much different from typical hills that stretched for miles before ascending into high towering monoliths. Strider explained to her about the geography and how, if they continued straight into the east, their company would find themselves climbing the Misty Mountains. Despite this small talk Brianna felt uneasy though she couldn't decide if it was because they were being followed or watched.

 _Probably both,_ she decided after they stopped for camp.

As the hobbits curled around the middle of the group to better keep warm. Brianna sat with Strider while they watched the night unable to sleep. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The breeze cheerfully danced around her face and she sent out feelers into its domain.

 _Where are the enemies? Show me where they lurk. I know they're here. Follow them and report to me. Warm me when they venture too close. Search,_ she willed.

That was all control over the elements were in the end. One's ability to will each atom of air, each molecule of water, mineral of earth and particle of fire all depended on their mastery of them. Brianna could almost boast of having a will of iron. Almost.

"What sorcery do you participate in?"

She opened her eyes, "What?"

Brianna looked at Strider who gazed ominously at her from under his hood. In the night, even with her enhanced elven vision, he was certainly a horrifying sight to behold. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Strider didn't even flinch.

"I don't. I kill sorcerers," she said for emphasis.

"So you say, yet I can sense the change in the wind. It answers to you like it does no elf. Only sorcery can explain such. The earth, when I struggled releasing Sam from the marsh's trap, became sturdy and easy to move about on. There is no elven power like it in Arda," he said.

Brianna raised her chin haughtily and replied, "Then you should be glad I am not from Arda, Ranger."

He grabbed her arm and leaned over her. Brianna forced herself to remain steadfast as his breath tickled the tip of her nose and lips. To her astonishment his breath smelled better than the rest of him, but she quashed the thought before it took a mind of its own.

"You will remember that you live so long as I deem you harmless to my charge, Huntress," he breathed as softly as the barest rustle of leaves in the wind.

Silence descended between them like the blade of a guillotine. The progress Brianna hoped she had made with the man seemed to have been severed from its makeshift body. Neither moved, or spoke, or allowed a single thought to break their gaze.

"I will remind you once, human," she said softly, dangerously, "I do not harm what is not evil. I hunt the monsters of the night. I am the fire that rages against the darkness, the ice to dark flame, the tremor of the earth that will bring down their fortresses. I am the wind and the rain and the fire above. My blade is the bane of the undead and the dark living. I have brought down dynasties of darkness with my rage and my power. You are being followed by people who want to harm you. I do not believe a single one of you have an evil bone in his body. You will never have a thing to fear from me, but _they_ will."

Strider didn't seemed moved an inch by her words; however, he was the first to remove his gaze. When he released her arm Brianna turned away as well and looked out into the night. Not a shadow stirred in the west. She wasn't surprised. It was far more likely their enemies road ahead and not followed them from behind.

"If you are what you say you are, can you not understand my reasons for distrust?" He asked after a while.

Brianna didn't reply for a while. She simply watched the clouds above and observed the breaks that revealed silver stars glittering above. Foreign stars, strange lands, and strange darkness. She shifted her attention to the ground and allowed a frown to grace her lips.

"Of course. Doesn't mean I won't try to make you believe me," she said.

They didn't speak again for the rest of the night and Brianna didn't sleep a wink and remained awake long after Strider fell into an uneasy sleep leaning against the same rock he sat against since they took watch together. Bitterly she smiled and shook her head as dawn crept over the horizon where the Midgewater Marshes were still visible.

 _Don't trust me my ass,_ she thought.

At mid morning she woke them. Strider didn't bother trying to defend himself. For that Brianna was grateful. She had enough of cowards groveling before her like kicked puppies and shaking bunnies. The ranger clearly had balls and she certainly could respect that. Just as she could respect the informed innocence of the hobbits as they conversed amongst themselves the distressing realization each of them were losing weight.

Brianna smiled cheerfully without quite knowing the reason why.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **The Lady of the Hunt**

 **Author's Note:** _To those of you who have read this chapter before and noticed that some things are different, that's because I've edited this chapter and have expanded some moments and thoughts. To those of you who haven't read this before: this chapter is edited the other chapters after this one are not. They will be eventually, so no fear._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Artemis ven Turthin, head of the organization OLYMPUS and great aunt to the elven queen, tapped the top of her pine desk irately. Lips pursed into a thin line while Matthias Smith and Karen Gillian hesitantly related the events of Stonehenge and the disappearance of her very danger prone niece, Brianna Davis. They fell silent long before she actually noticed they ceased chattering at her in their typical fast-paced way. Her mind was too distracted – too lost in consideration – to notice something as trivial as that. Nothing else mattered than this one thing.

She lost the elven queen, again.

It wasn't the first time Brianna had disappeared. She'd hidden herself among the human race and followed the Professor around for many, many years before she ever was found again. She was brought back by one of the OLYMPUS elves and set to rule as their queen before she abdicated and left them scrambling – trying to pretend her cousin was king when the opposite was true – and dedicated her life to solitude away from the throne and what she claimed it did to her.

She shook her head. _My niece certainly has an affinity for drama_ , she thought.

Now her trouble-prone niece had managed to get herself pushed through some sort of sorcery created wormhole and was no longer on Earth. Of all the irritating things that could happen to the girl it _had_ to be a wormhole to Triune knows where! Artemis, though she didn't look it, was beside herself with worry. Brianna hadn't been in a good state of mind when she'd sent her on that mission. Her appearance had been clean and neat, but very plain and clearly thrown on. Her hair had hung limply from her head as if no longer shown with the brilliance it always had ever since she awakened her ability to use the elements. The empty expression in her eyes, though, kept Artemis from being able to think peacefully on anything for a couple of nights.

 _And the look she had given me when I told her to let the victims die,_ Artemis thought. _That will stay with me for a good while._

"What kind of portal do you think The Morrighan created?" Artemis asked when she finally noticed that the two had stopped talking.

"One that took Brianna away from this world. She isn't here," Matt said. "I was reading the area using the runic computing system. It barely picked it up, but from what I could tell there's some sort of tainted scar in the fabric of the space-time veil holding reality together."

Both women blinked at him. Smith blinked right back as if confused as to why they hadn't understood everything he'd just said.

"Blue Wizard Smith. Did you just use a bunch of made up science fiction bullshit to try and explain the relativity of Space and Time?" Artemis asked sharply.

Matthias blushed a hilariously deep shade of crimson and began stuttering some sort of apology. Karen waved him back and leaned her hands on Artemis' desk. Her red hair - typically tied in a bun - had been pulled back into a over-the-shoulder braid and hung from her neck over Artemis's desk.

"What he's tryin' ta get at is tha' The Morrighan used sorcery and necromancy to punch a whole through space," the Scottish metal witch translated.

Artemis nodded and leaned into the back of her leather armchair. The Morrighan had created a doorway into another world. Why? What had she to gain from breaking the wall between their world and I other. What had she to gain from that venture? By all accounts her niece had plunged one of her fire-laced daggers into the bitch's chest and The Morrighan hadn't put up much of a fight.

 _She's killed two Raiphahim now. More than that she's rid the world of the two worst to walk among us. Ba'al's carefully laid plan to overthrow the royal line has failed. The Morrighan's plan, whatever it was, is now in jeopardy. Are we done? Is this the end?_

For a moment, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that a sort of tentative peace could arise now that The Morrighan was dead. That moment was shattered when she considered certain entities besides the Raiphahim who were willing to do just as much damage as their predecessors. Some had been students of the recently departed monsters. They'd bide their time for only a short while before they, too, gathered enough momentum to strike and wreak havoc across earth and possibly beyond.

"I don' know what The Morrighan was up to, but I can say I saw something between the stones," Karen added startling Artemis out of her thoughts.

A bit disgruntled at having to resist the urge to jump twelve feet out of her chair she grunted at Karen to go on. The red head, conscious of Artemis' mood, proceeded with her explanation.

"An eye made oot of flames," she said and Artemis could hear her Scottish brogue thicken her accent.

But she wasn't particularly paying attention to the witch's accent. She had felt the bottom drop out of her stomach at the mention of the eye. An eye wreathed in flame. The good professor had many stories to tell about a dark being – like a lesser angel from a far away realm – as evil as Abandon who was hell bent on striking out the light of his world. If Brianna was there… if their enemies were trying to get there…

"Well shit!" She spat and stood.

The moron that she was had left her phone in her room and she needed to make a call.

* * *

Laurel Moruni, professor of historical and cultural studies, hated plane rides. They were incredibly dull affairs in which at least two hundred people sat in a small confined space and waited for the rickety contraption that was an airplane to land three to five hours later. Somehow the humans managed to pass the time by reading, writing, watching some inconsequential tripe on Netflix or Amazon, or sleep. Thankfully she had the funds for first class seating. It kept her from having to deal with other people's children. She already had brain dead university students whose eyes were supposedly opened by their never-lived-in-reality professors in the first four years of their schooling. Experiencing the result of this brainless drivel they call education as it attempted to reproduce was extraordinarily unappealing.

There was only one student of hers she cared about and apparently she managed to get herself trapped in Arda by her own enemies. This was, of course, information based solely on what the child, Artemis, had managed to convey. The lady huntress hadn't sounded too frantic in the voice message she left her, but there was some strain. The Lady of the Hunt was rarely afraid and days when she showed that fear were less evident.

 _If only this fear was unfounded. Then I could go back to my ridiculous students and forget it_ , she thought.

Laurel opened one of her notebooks and began to jot down everything she remembered about Arda, their elves, their rulers and the Dark Lord Sauron. She'd only visited the place three times. There was little she actually knew and that little she knew was ominous.

 _If Sauron has regained his strength like Mithrandir predicted I can't imagine what sort of thing could entice him to fight with the knight elves,_ she thought.

What made it worse was that she couldn't propose anyone better. The Morrighan was dead which should have heralded the final end of a movement that Brianna tried stamping out years ago. All that should have needed to be done was kill the raiphahim bitch and burn her rotting corpse so a necromancer couldn't raise it. Brianna should have returned to OLYMPUS, gave her report to Artemis, and then returned to Canbridge to finish her year as the Professor of Cultural Archeology.

Such was not the case and hadn't been since her student had killed Ba'al several years prior. Laurel had kept tabs on the whispers of the faerie and heard their rumors of the resurgence of Mab, the deposed queen of the fae, from the lesser fae. Gleara, the dragon matriarch, had informed her of the movements of The Morrighan over the past year that detailed multiple sacrifices in Greece, Rome, and South America. Her son, Maf, told her one Thanksgiving that their enemies were vanishing from the face of the earth. One day a group of them walked the grounds of the ruins of Hades' temple and the next a great bulk of them were gone. Brianna's disappearance was merely the icing on the troubled cake.

"We are nearing Juno, Alaska. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for descent," the stewardess said over the intercom.

Laurel stowed the notebook back into her bag and leaned back into her seat. She turned her head toward the window and dully watched the ground grow closer.

Dull indeed.

* * *

Mafortion Japethelion waited for his mother to exit the plane and enter the airport terminal. He wondered what she looked like as He hadn't seen her for almost fifty years, though he spoke with her by letter or phone frequently. Did she cut her hair into a bob? He knew she'd considered it once in the roaring twenties. The years had separated them for long stretches at a time and the eventual meetings were always a bit of a shock. Briefly they would meet again, but only to leave each other again to go about their business in their own way.

Terminal fifteen began to disembark. People crowded out of the plane as quickly as they likely border so they could continue on in their journey. After ten minutes a tall red headed woman trailed out of the plane behind a gaggle of teenagers chattering excitedly about the idea of skiing in the mountains. Maf felt himself tense as his mother moved around them and glanced around the terminal with grim green eyes.

He raised an arm and her eyes snapped to his. He smiled wanly. Being friends was difficult for the both of them, but more so for him than for her. Maf still looked at her as his mother. She saw him as her equal and expected as much from him. Such had always been her way whether he wanted it or not.

"I distinctly remember you telling me that airplanes will pave the way towards the future. I'm inclined to disagree. They're just as unpleasant as stage coaches," she said brusquely.

"They rejected my designs," Maf said offhandedly a careless wave of his hand.

Professor Laurel Moruni smirked at him, "For someone who knew the Wrights personally you certainly haven't retained much influence with the airlines."

"I'm not as influential as I look, mother," he responded dryly.

"Clearly. I'm assuming Artemis contacted you as well?" She asked.

Maf pushed air through his nose very slowly so as to not make it seem like he was frustrated with her. Professor Laurel Moruni hadn't birthed children in almost five hundred years. He needed to remember that motherhood wasn't extended to those who no longer needed it.

 _Some motherly concern would be nice, though,_ he thought.

"Karen called me as I was their teacher at OLYMPUS. I suspect she thought I should know," he said.

His mother nodded, "As you should."

Silence descended between them like an iron curtain. Maf walked her down to the baggage claim. The silence dragged on as they watched technicolored boxes, bags and thick camouflaged duffles tumbled onto the conveyor belt. Childers squealed as they dashed to snatch up their little pink and blue suitcases. Business suit clad adults dipped casually to grab a solid plastic contraption colored in different shades of black or blue while clutching briefcases. Laurel crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the ceramic floor before she reached down and grabbed a strapped brown bag.

"Brianna is our apprentice respectfully. We must search for her dutifully as is the right earned by her as the person we have virtually raised at different stages of her life. Never let it be said that anyone I consider my own be abandoned because I simply felt too old to care," she said as they ventured out into the rapidly depleting autumn afternoon.

Maf, who could never think of a day when his mother hadn't watched over her children or her students, simply nodded and directed her to the garage he'd stored his car for the hour he'd waited for her. Fifteen thousand years Professor Laurel Moruni walked the new creation she was born. Every fiber of her being had been dedicated to protecting it from the harms servants of the Evil One sent against them. For centuries she watched over the human races and mitigated their petty disagreements to churn their leaders further away from selfishness and conceit to the betterment of their people.

They stopped before his mode of transportation and she turned to him with a slight quirk of an auburn brow. Maf shrugged and pressed the buttons of his remote keys that unlocked his 2017 Jeep. Laurel rolled her eyes and loaded her bags into the back. It wasn't like he would ever get to use it to enter OLYMPUS, but he liked toying with the clever new contraptions the car company fit into it.

They were in Anchorage, Alaska and it was going to take about an hour to drive towards the nearest small town. Once they past it a hidden street to the elven town outside of OLYMPUS would open its gates to them and they could cut through the mountains.

 _Our dwarf friends must have enjoyed building that,_ he thought fondly.

His mother shook her head, "I did help them design it to allow the drivers to exit where they needed to."

He sighed and backed out the parking space. One day she would learn to stop listening to people's surface thoughts and memories, but it was clearly not this day.

* * *

OLYMPUS was a great fortress built around the top of the mountain and straight down into it. Once it had been a volcano that liked to spew magma from within every chance it got. The elves and the dwarves dug and sifted and warded and magicked until the pressure subsided and allowed the hot liquid rock settle within its chamber. Periodically they had to redirect pressure to another volcano, but that was rare. At least, that was the story Artemis chose to stick with. Maf was never entirely sure about her complete honesty. The huntress certainly acted like an elf who spent time in court when she wanted to. Lady Artemis met them in the large entrance hall and bowed to Professor Moruni and even to Maf though the one she turned him wasn't low nor reverent.

"You know why we're here?" Artemis asked Laurel.

His mother inclined her head, "My student's unending ability to land herself into trouble, I presume?"

"However did you know?" Lady Artemis asked.

"I've _met_ her."

"What, exactly, has my wayward apprentice landed herself in?" Maf asked.

Part of him, a small part of him, needed them to remember that he was in Brianna's life since the beginning. He was the one who taught her how to fight without magic. He taught her the importance of using runic equations to give her an unexpected edge. He'd protected her against Ba'al when the bastard neatly sliced and diced her best friend and lover into a pair of ribboned flesh and bone. The Professor may have taught Brianna how to use magic _and_ think as logically as she could, but Maf taught her how to survive.

"The Morrighan was performing a ceremony of a most gruesome nature at Stonehenge five days ago. Brianna, Matt and Karen ambushed them. My niece killed The Morrighan and in turn, as the bitch died, the Morrighan pushed her through whatever tear between the worlds and we haven't seen Hyde nor hair of her since," Artemis explained.

"And that flaming eye? Karen's certain she saw it?" Laurel asked.

There was a tone that Maf hadn't heard in a very long time. It caught him off guard and prompted him to look at his mother. A worried frown creased his forehead while he studied her carefully calm expression and hard gaze that was fixed unflinchingly on Artemis. The lady huntress didn't wilt under the pressure of his mother's expression. Her back remained straight and eyes steel as her grey eyes continued to relentlessly meet his mother's green.

"It seems to be the case. I've sent Matt to Stonehenge and asked for Loki and Ailya's presence in Roswell and Cairo. They will likely have some sort of answer to this conundrum, but all we know, now, is that something is wrong with whatever separates us from Arda."

Maf frowned and crossed his arms. Grey eyes met his green ones and he studied Artemis for a while. She was trying very hard to hide it, but the signs were there. A worried hunter or huntress was never a good sign this; especially, if said huntress was Lady Artemis who was rarely shaken.

"Few can walk through the worlds without help. The Morrighan likely utilized a ceremonial series of sacrifices," Laurel said softly and crossed her arms.

"With so many points of entry," Maf muttered and raised one dark brow at the Lady Huntress.

Artemis' eyes contracted into smaller points. Her skin paled. Beside him Laurel tensed and sucked in a quick breath.

"You don't think-," Laurel breathed.

"I'll bet my remaining years of youth," Maf replied confidently.

Artemis didn't contribute. She had whirled around toward the staircase and whipped out her phone. As she thumbed several texts in quick succession Maf heard her mutter "shit, shit, shit."

Despite the gravity of the situation he smiled.

* * *

 _Three weeks prior…_

Mab had once been a queen of the fair folk in the older, darker days. Those days had been filled with the high fae terrorizing the petty humans who lived in the triple islands. She enjoyed playing with their mortal kings and queens, twisting their hearts and minds one way and then the other, giving them everything they wanted even if they thought they didn't want it. A child would be stolen to live in her court for a time. When it was old enough she sacrificed it to the void beyond for the power it gave her.

Such a time passed away with one swift strike by the "Wise Queen of the Elves" as all the Fae whispered, some in fondness and others in fear. Mab never fought for the love of her people. She didn't think she needed to. When many turned on her in favor of the elven queen there was little she could do save flee. Flee she did – far into the wild – and hid for many long years biding her time until the day came when The Morrighan found her hunched over in her hovel with a proposition of revenge.

Now she stood at the cusp of it all. The Morrighan was dead – killed by the very whelp of the elf queen Mab hated – and she was the only one left. All who worked for the goal she had were slowly defeated in the past millennia.

Until now.

The three sorceresses of night stood in a circle at the center of the crumbling throne room. Once it had been the palace of the elven kings of Greece. The golden age of sorcery among the elven nobility many said. Mab certainly held that opinion. It began with King Zeus' attempt to stamp it out of his family. Queen Athena ended it by sealing Hades and Persephone and her half-brother Aries into the seventh gate of hell. Mab smirked at the thought. Athena, the one propped up by her people and the peoples of earth as wise, had made a decidedly unwise decision.

 _The bitch should have killed them when she had the chance_ , she thought and removed her cowled hood to reveal a long, fair face, cat-like blue eyes, a glistening blond hair that seemed to shimmer with dark fire along each strand.

Casually, she motioned for the three head priestesses of the Triple Goddess to begin. Nyx, Hecate, and Daenith, the elven sister of Morgan's le Faye, began to chant, swaying in the middle of the room. The weak point in earth's reality shimmered and Mab drew in a breath as the air began to smell of sulfur and rotten flesh. Her feet trembled as the ground shook under them. The middle of the room's floor cracked and crumbled away around the sorceresses. She stepped forward to an empty edge. Mab's lips curled back into a sneering smile that revealed needle-pointed incisors.

She laughed and jumped into hell.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Wraith and Fire**

 **Authors Note:** _This chapter is edited and expanded (a bit). Disclaimer: if parts of the text look like it came from the original source text, that's because it did. There's not much else to say other then there might be some newer concepts from the original. Enjoy!_

* * *

It took a day and a half for the little company to reach Weathertop. Brianna's boots were basically worn useless by then. Her heals hurt, back itched, and everything about her person smelled something most foul. It wasn't just her, which made the stink ten times worse. All of them reeked of the swamp and the added smell of unwashed male offended her sense of smell. For a moment, as they trekked higher into the hills, Brianna considered cutting a rune into her wrist to lessen her sense of smell to that of a human's, but later decided it wouldn't help much. She was determined to put up with it until they came across a river or stream to bathe in. In any case, she wasn't particularly inclined to mutilate her body just because she and the men smelled ripe.

They climbed to the top of the hill. Once reached Brianna felt a chill crawl up her spine. Before them loomed a wide ring of ancient stone-work, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. Clearly there was a time when the place had harbored a tall watchtower, but the circular walls were no longer connected and nine dilapidated pillars remained. It reminded her a little too much of Stonehenge and the fell power that crackled in the air the night The Morrighan worked her dark magic.

Almost unconscious of the motion Brianna gripped her elbows with opposite hands to keep her body from giving into the need to shake. The moment she let herself break it would be over for her and any confidence she would have gained with Strider and his hobbits would be lost. She blinked and breathed.

 _Fear is the mind killer,_ she thought and smiled.

With more effort than she would have liked to admit Brianna took stock of the surrounding monoliths and their land. In the center of the circle was the remnant of a fire. Curious she crossed the short distance and knelt by the ashes and burnt stone. As quick as a thought she dabbed her right forefinger and middle finger into the ashes and slipped them into her mouth. She cocked her head to one side and considered the tale the ashes told.

"This fire is about a week or two old. It hasn't lost all of its carbon components quite yet," she said.

They stared at her. Brianna's brows furrowed then her eyes settled on her fingers. She cast her eyes to the sky.

"I'm not explaining Carbon. It would take too long and a doctorate in chemistry which I don't have," she said.

"You… put ashes in your mouth," Sam remarked weakly.

"I'm an elf and a huntress. My tastebuds are in a class of their own," Brianna said primly.

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered "still disgusting! Don't know where its been" under his breath. Brianna grinned, eyes gleaming, and caught Frodo's eye. The hobbit's lips were pressed into a thin line with barely concealed laughter brightening his eyes. Directly behind them walked the mutually relieved Merry and Pippin and an expressionless Strider.

"Well, here we are!" said Merry who seemed to think it best to change the subject. "And very cheerless and uninviting it looks! There is no water and no shelter. And no sign of Gandalf."

Brianna returned her attention to the dead fire and silently inspected the ground around it. People who sat around warm places typically left clues of their presence. She hoped Gandalf was one of them. While the men spoke and worried she found what she was looking for: a stone with runic markings on it. She cocked her head to one side and inspected it. The rune looked like it came from a nordic village, pre-Roman era long before their written language resembled anything coherent.

 _But I can't read it, so clearly it's one of theirs,_ she thought.

"Does this mean anything to you, Strider?" She asked and held out her hand with the stone nestled in her palm.

Interrupted from whatever train of thought that was flashing through his head, Strider bent down and gently brushed his fingers against her skin as he took the stone. Brianna tried very hard not to notice exactly how callused his fingers were and watched him study the bloody thing. She also tried very hard to pretend that his callouses fingers felt good against the palm of her hand.

 _What a ridiculous thing to think,_ she thought. _Preposterous and completely unnecessary!_

Wordlessly, Brianna watched the man study the runed stone. Upon further inspection he almost looked worse than she or the hobbits in regards to the damage the swamp did to his appearance. Despite the dirt, the grime, and the decidedly ripe smell his eyes still held a certain intensity that was almost attractive. It was a ridiculous thought seeing as there was very little she should be attracted to in regards to this ranger, but have it she did. She shook her head and forced her mind to both clear and forget that any sort of positive thought about him crossed her mind.

"The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches," said Strider. "It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the marks might mean something quite different, and have nothing to do with us."

"More Rangers than you, Strider?" Brianna asked sweetly.

"Yes," he replied and left it at that.

She stood and began to inspect the circumference of their camp ground. There wasn't a stitch of magic in the air, yet something felt off. She frown and glanced at the sky. Strider _had_ said earlier while they were climbing to Weathertop that some of the birds were on Sauron's side. She heard the hobbits meander around while her windsense stretched into the beyond. What was it? Someone had to be watching them somewhere.

Vaguely she heard the conversation between Strider and the hobbits.

"What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?" asked Merry.

"I should say," answered Strider, 'that they stood for G3, and were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now. It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he had no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is so, we must be wary."

To the southwest she felt the mass of darkness and the disturbance of hooves on a dirt road. The dust of Arda shuddered and the land beneath cried out to her in response to her presence in the wind. The need to fight in the earth overcame her with such ferocity that Brianna opened her eyes with a gasp and stumbled a few steps backward. Once she regained her composure she noticed the men were quite.

"What was that?" Strider asked though she likened it more to a growl.

Brianna ignored him and turned in the direction of the road. From her vantage point she had a perfect view of the land below and spied five shapes on black horses. They rode toward each other: two together and three others separately galloping from the east to meet them.

"We're not making camp here," she said softly, "Those black riders you mentioned are in the area and may have already seen us."

 _But, that wasn't the only thing the wind warned me about. Not entirely,_ she thought.

At once Strider flung himself on the ground behind the ruined circle, pulling Frodo down beside him. Merry threw himself alongside. Sam and Pippin stayed low by the far pillars. Brianna frowned at the movement, but moved with them as well and settled herself on the other side of Strider while he looked over the tall grass over the hobbits' heads.

"The enemy is here," he said in a tone Brianna suspected to be bitterness, but wasn't quite certain.

"I gathered that. What are we going to do about it?" She hissed.

He looked at her and she raised one eyebrow. Strider slid away from the pillar and crawled low towards the other side of the hill back the way they came. Brianna's eyes narrowed and she guessed what he was considering.

"There is a hollow at the base of the hill. We will rest there tonight," he said.

She huffed and grabbed his arm as gently as she could despite feeling incredibly pissed at him. Even so, Strider started and turned to meet her anger with his own hard expression. Brianna held her ground.

"That is possibly the worst idea I've ever heard," she snapped quietly.

"Do you have a better one?" He asked.

Brianna didn't respond immediately. She did, in fact, but the consequences of that idea meant giving up her identity as a wielder of the elements. She didn't want to reveal that just yet.

"Evidently not or I would have suggested it by now," she hissed.

"Then we go to the hollow and wait out the enemy," Strider said with a finality that left no room for argument.

Sam and Pippin had already disappeared over the hill before them. Strider rose into a crouch before slipping around one of the stone pillars only to vanish a moment later. Merry followed soon after at full height. Hobbits were easier to miss than they as their kind didn't seem to grow beyond three foot five. Frodo didn't move from his place at the edge of their pillar. Instead he gazed at her, thoughtful.

"You lied to Strider. You _do_ have a plan," he guessed.

 _Well fuck! Why aren't they oblivious like everyone else!_ She thought.

"It probably wasn't a good one anyway," she said admitted.

For a moment Brianna feared Frodo would press the matter further. Instead he stood and traveled to the edge of hill top. In a moment he sank temporarily beyond her sight. Truly alone for the first time in days Brianna elected to remain sitting for a while. The Riders were still some ways off and she didn't think they would arrive ten minutes after spotting the bastards. Besides, spending time alone was quite appealing. She needed that moment to reflect and consider her position in its entirety.

 _I'm alone in a strange world with a man who's so suspicious of me that one wrong move might get me killed and four short men who have varying degrees of naïveté,_ she thought. _And now we're being followed by dark riders and, possibly, something else that I can't place. It would be so much easier to protect them with magic, but if I try to do that I'll probably alienate Strider. I don't want that. If I alienate him then I'll do so to the others. I need their trust before I protect them with magic, but I might not have a choice in the matter anyway._

She crawled to the edge of the hill and craned her neck to get a glimpse over. Strider was outside the hollow. A slight tilt of his head gave her enough of a view to determine that something was troubling him.

 _Good. Something isn't right. He needs to be worried,_ she thought.

The Morrighan ripped open a pathway to Arda. In the end it didn't matter what the bloody servants of some half-alive Demi-God were looking for. What mattered, ultimately, was why the half sister of Ba'al needed to enter a world that was oppressed by dark magic and lived in fear of every shadow in the land. If there was anything she learned in her long years of fighting her enemies it was that they were far too calculated in their plans to make misguided mistakes. The Morrighan had known what she'd pushed Brianna through. She'd known about the world Brianna would end up in. She'd known, in part, about who was on the other side.

 _The last gift for her brother,_ she thought, _would be my ruin. Though what that means I can't say._

With that thought she slid onto the slope and allowed her body to creep close to the ground a minute before standing straight to meet Strider at the bottom.

* * *

"I know few people who are actually good at brooding. You certainly out-brood them all."

Strider didn't start from his reverie. He'd heard her feet disturb the earth as she slid those few paces down the hill before walking the rest of the way.

"Sam and Pippin discovered some troubling clues on our campsite," he informed her.

Brianna stepped beside him and clasped her hands behind her back and asked, "Is it Gandalf, rangers, or something else?"

"I am… unsure."

He pursed his lips and looked out to the expanse surrounding them. In the distance he saw the marshes spread out before them. At the edge of the marshes was green flat land that grew into a grey-green terrain as the land rose gradually into rolling hills. They were high hills now, great and looming, and grew higher the more west one traveled.

"At least the hollow faces the direction we want to go," she said.

He rewarded her with a wry smile in answer. It was strange. He didn't trust her and yet he did like her. If anything could be said about this strange elf claiming to be from another world it was her charm. It was magnetic in a way he couldn't quite explain. Charm in despite of her vulgarity unbecoming of elven ladies in Arda. If she wasn't from Arda then her certainly could forgive her of it. If she was lying; however, and he suspected she wasn't, then the only conclusion he could come to was that she was clearly of the enemy.

Then there was the matter of magic. Strider knew she could use it. That display on the top of the hill confirmed that suspicion, though he had no idea how she was able to do what she did. Elves in Arda did have the use of magic, but it was a weak grasp at best and no where near the talent of wizards. Brianna Davis, it seemed, could use magic in a way the Istari could. She hasn't seen the Riders first. She'd sensed them somehow and Strider didn't know if her power was based on sorcery or not. It didn't seem so, but the enemy was a mastermind in lies and manipulation and could have planted her in their midst to trick them.

 _The ring doesn't like her,_ he considered, _she may be trustworthy._

Strider glanced at her. Brianna's dirt streaked face watched him with guarded teal eyes. His heart skipped a beat and he looked away from her before his own expression betrayed him. She was attractive even under all of that dirt and grime from the swamp.

"We found what seems to be the boot prints of a man, but I fear it is an armored one. If such is the case I fear we might face the enemy whether we wish to or not," he admitted.

A beat. Then another.

"It's my experience that running typically prolongs the inevitable. We're going to have to deal with them eventually," she said.

There was a note of bitterness to that sentiment. He hadn't met many elf women or spoke with many for a prolonged period of time. He only knew one on a personal level and their friendship was strained at best. Yet, he had never known them to be bitter about life. Indifferent, yes, depending on their age, but not bitter.

"Forgive me for asking, Brianna, but how old are you?" He asked, turning to look at her once more and caught the last second of movement as she looked away from him.

Her smile was sad, but didn't look at him as she replied, "One hundred and sixty nine years as of February of this current year. At least, so it would be if we were on earth."

 _She's not yet two hundred years?_ He wondered. _I've never met an elf as close to my age as she._

A dead weight settled in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't _met_ many elleth, but he did know from Arwen and Lord Elrond that they rarely left their homes before the age of two hundred. The ones who elect to learn the art of war lingered for many years longer than most to better hone their skill in combat. Those who elected to learn healing, art, or music sometimes never left home.

"When did you first see battle?" He asked.

Her smile faded and a haunted expression overtook her face. Strider was faced with the discovery that he didn't like to see it. Such an expression unsettled him for it to come from an elf maiden so young and so vibrant.

"I was sixty-five years old. I was many years yet from adulthood, but my team and I… we wanted to fight, pushed for it, and got what we deserved. I was sixty-nine when I had to take lives as an act of mercy off of the battle field. And I set the bastard on fire who was responsible for it," her final words were blunt, bitten out, and aggressive, "I burned him and his wife and his lieutenant. History calls it a suicide. It wasn't. It was judgment."

And she smiled the smile of a person who did not lose sleep over exacting justice in such a violent way. Strider fought back a shiver. He wasn't cold, but the look in her eyes was the steel of an old rage and hurt that had long haunted her. One hundred years… and he believed her. The Dark Lord certainly had good spies, but he doubted many could fake her expression. Cold, angry, and haunted.

He swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Why did you feel the need to enact such a… wrathful punishment?" He asked more out of morbid curiosity than particularly wanting to know.

The haunted expression returned, "I have a few regrets in my life, but what I regret the most is my inability to help the children who felt the hand of my mercy."

Horrified, he gaped at her.

"They were… children?" He asked.

Strider didn't know whether he should have been horrified for her or of her. To be in a position where the kindest thing to do would be to end the life of a child shook him.

 _Yet, I've heard of instances where it was needed_ , he thought and considered some stories told by rangers older than him.

"Yes," she whispered and closed her eyes.

"What happened?" He asked.

When her teal eyes opened again they burned with a hatred unparalleled by many. Strider was taken aback.

"They took them, turned them into mindless creatures and mutilated their bodies into something that wasn't even human anymore!" She spat and turned to him. "I don't know this enemy of yours, but if his crimes are just as bad he will rue his very existence!"

Strider, for the first time since meeting her, firmly believed she wasn't going to hurt Frodo or any of them. There were monsters everywhere. It was rare to meet someone who actually made a point to hunt and kill them.

"I believe you," he said voice barely above a whisper.

Brianna's eyes contracted and brows raised. He smiled despite feeling grim at the revelation of a piece of her past. It was nice to leave her dumbfounded. Because he did believe her. She was no threat to them. More importantly he knew now, for certain, by her passion at a memory she shared that she would protect Frodo and the hobbits.

"That was… you don't…" she stammered.

"I've witnessed the horrors of two wars, Miss Davis, and I know the damage evil will wrought if given the chance. And I know what it's like to make the difficult decisions in regards to the lives of the innocents affected," he said, "You need not explain yourself to me further."

Her eyes shimmered and Brianna abruptly turned away from him to face the direction of the road coming up from the south. He heard her breath a barely audible whisper - probably a curse - with an accompanying sniff. When she turned around to face him once again she'd regained her composure.

He held out his hand.

"Come, we should take shelter before the night comes," Strider said.

He led her into the hollow. The hobbits had already built a fire and Sam set up the cooking pot. The soup smelled appetizing, but there wasn't much in it. Much of their supplies had been eaten by the addition of Brianna though she attempted to keep to one or two light meals a day. He could, and would, hunt if needed.

Brianna sat next to Pippin and was drawn into a conversation about this thing called 'Chemistry' and 'science'. He didn't know what any of that was, but he nestled himself comfortably in the back of the hollow and allowed himself to relax for a moment. The Riders were some ways off and likely wouldn't be in the area for another hour or so.

The night came and the air grew cold. Strider, used to such conditions, remained sitting with only his cloak about him. The hobbits unloaded their warmer cloaks and blankets from their packs. Frodo offered one to Brianna, but she shook her head and remained close to the fire.

"Tell us more about Gil-Galad," Merry implored after a lull in the conversation took root like a weed.

"I'm fascinated by it," Brianna said, "especially as the lay you were chanting sounded a bit more historical than fictional."

Strider chuckled, "It is certainly history for it concerns our quest greatly. However, the name of the Evil One and his stronghold is spoken. I think it may be best we defer to a later date. I do not wish to attract what hunts us."

Sam looked to Brianna, "You're an elf and elves sing. What songs do you know?"

Strider looked to her curiously. He hadn't heard a melody pass her lips, true, and maybe that had to do with the tragedy of her past. Instead of looking forlorn; however, Brianna flushed red and began chewing on her lip.

"I… well… my people. We have songs. I know a bit, but I know more human songs of all kinds. Some of them have influenced in our language. My people influenced much of human culture and human culture influenced much of ours," she stammered.

Frodo leaned forward, "Well have at it, then! Sing for us."

All of them watched Brianna as she squirmed in her seat. Strider tried very hard not to smile. Something about her manner was refreshing to behold and it delighted him for a reason he couldn't fathom.

Despite her evident embarrassment she regained her composure and began to sing:

" _Nil Se'n La_  
 _Chuaigh mé isteach i dteach aréir_  
 _is d'iarr mé cairde ar mhnaoi an leanna._  
 _Is é dúirt sí liom "Ní bhfaighidh tú deor._  
 _Buail an bóthar is gabh abhaile_

 _I came by a house last night_  
 _And told the woman I am staying_  
 _I said to her:_  
 _"The moon is bright and my fiddles tuned for playing"_

 _Tell me that the night is long_  
 _Tell me that the moon is glowing_  
 _Fill my glass, I'll sing a song_  
 _And will start the music flowing_

 _Never mind the rising light_  
 _There's no sign of day or dawning_  
 _In my heart it's still the night_  
 _And we'll stay here till the morning_  
 _Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,_  
 _solas ard atá sa ghealaigh._

 _It's not day nor yet awhile_  
 _I can see the starlight shining_  
 _Níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,_  
 _solas ard atá sa ghealaigh._

 _Fill the glasses one more time_  
 _And never heed the empty bottle_  
 _Turn the water into wine_  
 _And turn the party up full throttle_

 _Don't go out into the cold_  
 _Where the wind and rain are blowing_  
 _For the fire is flaming gold_  
 _And in here the music's flowing_

 _Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,_  
 _solas ard atá sa ghealaigh._

 _Tell me that the night is long_  
 _Tell me that the moon is gleaming_  
 _Fill my glass, I'll sing a song_  
 _And we'll keep the music streaming_  
 _Until all the songs are sung_

 _Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,_  
 _solas ard atá sa ghealaigh._

 _Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,_  
 _níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,_  
 _solas ard atá sa ghealaigh."_

Strider grinned at her as did the hobbits. Brianna, for her part, turned an endearing shade of red and drew her legs up to her chest so she could bury her face in her knees and arms.

"That wasn't so bad," said Merry, "In fact I think you have a nice, pleasant voice Miss Brianna."

"Thank you Merry," she said as her head lifted from its nest, "That's very kind of you."

Strider wondered at her modesty. Her voice was beautiful with the way it controlled itself to fit the mood of the song. When she sang high notes…

 _She doesn't quite appreciate how beautiful her voice is,_ he thought. _Is this a result of Earth's culture?_

"Do all elves sound like they're angels?" Pippin asked.

Brianna blushed again and mumbled, "I learned how to sing from a very fine soprano. Unfortunately, the purpose of my tutelage was to make my voice sound like it had potential so I could hunt for a delusional vampire in an opera house. He, also, tutored me and helped me learn how to bring finesse and control to my song. Then, of course, I drove a stake through his heart and cut off his head so he would stop eating sopranos."

Strider snorted. It wasn't necessarily an amusing story, but the irony of needing to kill one's master because he was eating people was not lost on him. Neither did it she, it seemed, because Brianna grinned at him.

"Alright, Strider, you avoided singing so far. It's your turn. What do you have to offer?" She asked coyly.

He sat back in his place at the back of the hollow, "I will tell you the tale of Tinúviel," said Strider, "in brief –for it is a long tale of which the end is not known; and there are none now, except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up your hearts."

He was silent for some time, and then he began not to speak but to chant softly:

" _The leaves were long, the grass was green,_

 _The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_

 _And in the glade a light was seen_

 _Of stars in shadow shimmering._

 _Tinúviel was dancing there_

 _To music of a pipe unseen,_

 _And light of stars was in her hair,_

 _And in her raiment glimmering._

 _There Beren came from mountains cold,_

 _And lost he wandered under leaves,_

 _And where the Elven-river rolled_

 _He walked alone and sorrowing._

 _He peered between the hemlock-leaves_

 _And saw in wonder flowers of gold_

 _Upon her mantle and her sleeves,_

 _And her hair like shadow following._

 _Enchantment healed his weary feet_

 _That over hills were doomed to roam;_

 _And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,_

 _And grasped at moonbeams glistening._

 _Through woven woods in Elvenhome_

 _She lightly fled on dancing feet,_

 _And left him lonely still to roam_

 _In the silent forest listening._

 _He heard there oft the flying sound_

 _Of feet as light as linden-leaves,_

 _Or music welling underground,_

 _In hidden hollows quavering._

 _Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,_

 _And one by one with sighing sound_

 _Whispering fell the beechen leaves_

 _In the wintry woodland wavering._

 _He sought her ever, wandering far_

 _Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,_

 _By light of moon and ray of star_

 _In frosty heavens shivering._

 _Her mantle glinted in the moon,_

 _As on a hill-top high and far_

 _She danced, and at her feet was strewn_

 _A mist of silver quivering._

 _When winter passed, she came again,_

 _And her song released the sudden spring,_

 _Like rising lark, and falling rain,_

 _And melting water bubbling._

 _He saw the elven-flowers spring_

 _About her feet, and healed again_

 _He longed by her to dance and sing_

 _Upon the grass untroubling._

 _Again she fled, but swift he came._

 _Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her Elvish name;_

 _And there she halted listening._

 _One moment stood she, and a spell_

 _His voice laid on her: Beren came,_

 _And doom fell on Tinúviel_

 _That in his arms lay glistening._

 _As Beren looked into her eyes_

 _Within the shadows of her hair,_

 _The trembling starlight of the skies_

 _He saw there mirrored shimmering._

 _Tinúviel the elven-fair,_

 _Immortal maiden elven-wise,_

 _About him cast her shadowy hair_

 _And arms like silver glimmering._

 _Long was the way that fate them bore,_

 _O'er stony mountains cold and grey,_

 _Through halls of iron and darkling door,_

 _And woods of nightshade morrowless._

 _The Sundering Seas between them lay,_

 _And yet at last they met once more,_

 _And long ago they passed away_

 _In the forest singing sorrowless."_

 **(*Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring*)**

He caught Brianna's look as his song faded into the night. She seemed pale as the moon and her skin glowed underneath the grime coating her unwashed body. Something about his song must have shaken her.

"What is it?" He asked.

Her eyes were glazed over and Strider observed the journey her mind went through to grab memories long hidden in the back of her mind, "I… know of Beren and Luthien. I read it… in my professor's old journals from the years she learned to step between worlds. The things she saw, the people she met, the histories she recorded: The war between Mor-," he cut her off.

"No! Don't say the name!" He snapped.

This seemed to jolt her from the trance of memory and Brianna inclined her head. The glow dimmed a bit to a shimmer that reflected the flickering light of their fire.

"Continue, Strider," she said in a tone that was decidedly steady.

Confused by what shook her composure Strider returned his attention to the hobbits who watched the exchange with rapt interest. He closed his eyes and recalled history. The two who ultimately began his lineage and allowed for all of their descendants to choose a long life or a short mortal one.

"That is a song," he said, "in the mode that is called ann-thennath among the Elves, but is hard to render in our Common Speech, and this is but a rough echo of it. It tells of the meeting of Beren son of Barahir and Lúthien Tinúviel. Beren was a mortal man, but Lúthien was the daughter of Thingol, a King of Elves upon Middle-earth when the world was young; and she was the fairest maiden that has ever been among all the children of this world. As the stars above the mists of the Northern lands was her loveliness, and in her face was a shining light. In those days the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the North, and the Elves of the West coming back to Middle-earth made war upon him to regain the Silmarils which he had stolen; and the fathers of Men aided the Elves. But the Enemy was victorious and Barahir was slain, and Beren escaping through great peril came over the Mountains of Terror into the hidden Kingdom of Thingol in the forest of Neldoreth. There he beheld Lúthien singing and dancing in a glade beside the enchanted river Esgalduin; and he named her Tinúviel, that is Nightingale in the language of old. Many sorrows befell them afterwards, and they were parted long. Tinúviel rescued Beren from the dungeons of Sauron, and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great Enemy from his throne, and took from his iron crown one of the three Silmarils, brightest of all jewels, to be the bride-price of Lúthien to Thingol her father. Yet at the last Beren was slain by the Wolf that came from the gates of Angband, and he died in the arms of Tinúviel. But she chose mortality, and to die from the world, so that she might follow him; and it is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering Seas, and after a brief time walking alive once more in the green woods, together they passed, long ago, beyond the confines of this world. So it is that Lúthien Tinúviel alone of the Elf-kindred has died indeed and left the world, and they have lost her whom they most loved. But from her the lineage of the Elf-lords of old descended among Men. There live still those of whom Lúthien was the foremother, and it is said that her line shall never fail. Elrond of Rivendell is of that Kin. For of Beren and Lúthien was born Dior Thingol's heir; and of him Elwing the White whom Eärendil wedded, he that sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril upon his brow. And of Eärendil came the Kings of Númenor, that is Westernesse." **(*Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring*)**

He found Brianna looking at him again, this time with a calculating gaze as if she was solving a complex equation. She seemed as if she would ask him something, but her head jerked to the wide opening of the hollow. Teal eyes narrowed and Strider followed the path of her gaze with his own and saw only night. She flicked her hand and a single longsword appeared in her hand and stood. Strider blinked. Where had _that_ come from?

"You dare come?" She breathed, "You who know these men are protected?"

Strider beckoned to the hobbits and motioned to the fire, "Grab hold of the longest sticks and be prepared for whatever enters!"

He looked at her. Brianna's gaze was fixed upon the opening. Her sword was thin but long and made to for someone who was slight to face someone armored or not. It could block all but the strongest made swords and had the reach and a thin enough point to skewer.

"Is it the Riders?" He asked.

"Yes," she confirmed, voice strained.

 _And what else?_ He wondered but didn't have the heart to ask.

The hobbits were already uneasy. Merry and Pippin huddled on the ground unable to face whatever approached. Something entered. It wasn't a rider nor was it a friend. It was an elf, or something Strider believed was an elf. This elf wasn't one he'd ever seen before. A sinister air grew around its manner. His skin was different shades of sapphire and obsidian. What strike him most were the eyes that gazed at them with a cruel grin like a pair of blood rubies.

"Erebus," Brianna said, voice cold, and smiled.

Strider felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He had seen elves, naturally good natured creatures, turn into cold, calculating killers before. Brianna was on another level entirely. The presence she gave was unbridled and feral body strung taught like a cat preparing to spring. She was a huntress and there, in front of her, was her prey.

"I'm happy you still remember me, Doctor Brianna Davis," the elf said.

His voice was sinister. A chill crept around Strider's heart and he calmly switched the long stick into his left hand and placed his other on the hilt of his sword. Whatever this elf was, whatever sorcery he possessed, it was evil. Figures of shadow, tall and terrible, looked behind Erebus. Strider counter five and heard three of the hobbits whimper.

Slowly he stood and stepped around the fire to place himself the opposite side of Brianna. She didn't look at him, but Strider didn't doubt that she knew he was there.

"Haven't heard that title in a while. Typically I evolve from elf-bitch to please-don't-kill-me," Brianna quipped.

 _By the stars, why is she taunting this creature?_ Strider wondered.

Erebus struck first, charging her with an obsidian bladed sword raised above his head and directed at the elleth's head. Brianna blocked his sword of obsidian and pushed him away and out into the wilderness beyond. The Black Riders surged into the hollow. Two passed him and Strider engaged three of them ferociously swinging his sword and his flaming stick. In the confusion Strider though he heard Frodo cry out, but he couldn't be certain.

What he was certain about was that he could light every single mother's son of them on fire which is what he did. The wraiths screamed and dashed away from the group. He turned on the remaining to and hit them with the fire. They were already distracted, though by what Strider didn't know. The Riders slipped away back into the night smoldering and burning.

Brianna's battle wasn't over. In fact it had escalated to a full display of magic on her part. Fire bathed her in a bright golden light and attacked Erebus. The elf – Strider supposed it was an elf though he was reluctant to call it as such – fought her magic with a burning black substance he couldn't identify. She rushed into both her fire and the black magic and physically assaulted Erebus. The elf ferociously threw her off of him with a blast of magic. Strider felt his heart thud in his chest and he lifted his sword and charged the elf.

Erebus seemed surprised when Strider's longsword swung for his neck. He seemed stunned Strider could roll out of the path his destructive black magic traveled. When Strider thrust the point of his sword into the elf's stomach Erebus gaped at him.

"A human? A human can hit me?" He asked aghast.

Strider didn't reply and moved to finish the blow, but the elf, through some dark sorcery of his own, melted into the shadows and disappeared. Strider waited several minutes before allowing his guard to drop. He looked to the direction Brianna was thrown and found her staring at him with an expression that bordered on awe. She stood before he could move to help her, swayed in place for a moment, and then regained composure.

"Well, Strider, that display was certainly impressive," she remarked.

"As was your fire," Strider replied pointedly.

Brianna took an unsteady step forward. Her eyes looked glazed. Strider stepped towards her, took her by the shoulders and held her still to study her. Parts of her exposed skin on her chest and arms had black spots on them.

"What is this?" He asked.

She blinked and glanced down at her collarbone, "A burn."

Strider thought about responding to her, but thought better if it. Gently he helped her back into the hollow where the hobbits waited. He started. Frodo lay prone on the ground unmoving. With haste he moved towards the young hobbit. Brianna followed close behind and the two knelt down beside him.

As he inspected Frodo's unconscious body for wounds and immediately found one. Next to him Brianna hissed out a sharp curse.

"That wound… where is the blood? There's barely any," she asked.

That particular symptom troubled Strider and he was thankful she noticed as well. He stood. Brianna didn't move, but she did look up at him, eyebrow raised.

"He needs to be kept warm," he ordered.

She glared, "I can do that, but Strider where -," He turned and left before she could finish.

There were times when listening to the counter argument would be counterproductive.

 _And if that wound was made from what I suspect, Frodo doesn't need Brianna and in to argue. He needs medicine,_ he thought.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **A Cause for Concern**

 **Author's Muse:** _On one hand in happy that I've been blessed with the ability to update this quickly. It's very exciting and I'm happy that this story is blossoming into a great flower of prewriging goodness this story has become. Brianna has grown so much as a character in my own original works. It's great to write this and round out her character as well as organize my lore. Enjoy!_

* * *

Brianna wasn't unaware of the danger Frodo was in. In fact, after studying the wound more thoroughly, she saw the troubling nuances of the dark blade that inflicted it. She was also quite certain the tip of the blade was lodged inside. There wasn't much she could do about the wound, but she made some effort. She cleaned it with water, disinfected it with some heat, and placed him near the fire to keep warm.

By that point the fire had died down and the logs turned to ashes. She glared at it until it rose from the ashes into a full blaze that she alone controlled. Satisfied with her work Brianna checked over the other hobbits and, upon discovering all of them were well, saw to her wounds.

Deft fingers gingerly prodded her collarbone and neck. She winced. Dark fire wasn't much of a curse, but it certainly inflicted a well-rounded sting. It's use was still troubling.

 _I mean, not to be overly melodramatic, but why the fuck did they not try to kill me?_ She wondered.

Resigned to the fate of being unable to have most of her questions answered at this present time, Brianna unzipped her leather vest and slipped the first layer off. A most assuredly not white anymore tank top was revealed.

"Sam, you have some pots, can I, perhaps, borrow a few?" She asked absently.

He didn't respond for a few moments. Brianna didn't notice. She'd observed the burn had spread to her shoulder and chest just a small bit. No, they weren't trying to kill her, but Erebus had certainly meant to incapacitate her. With black fire of all things! She could stop that little minor curse very quickly. And she would, but she needed that pot first.

"Um, miss Bri, you're a bit unclothed," Sam piped up tentatively.

She looked sharply up at the hobbits than back down to her dress. What on earth did he mean by that?

Oh… oh! She thought.

In her battle vest and pants she looked relatively clothed, though she was quite certain she'd caught Strider's eyes roaming to her ass occasionally. A tank to was probably close to scandalous for these incredibly sheltered hobbits.

"I'm not unclothed, Sam, but if I don't treat this I will have to be soon if it spreads. Hand. Me. A. Pot," she said sternly.

To his credit Sam did, though he kept his eyes closed while handing the thing to her. Remarkably he managed it to trip. He returned to the fire where Frodo lay and Merry and Pippin watched over him. Brianna sighed, shook her head, and drew moisture into the pot. By now the hobbits knew she could use magic, so she wasn't too concerned about freaking them out. She closed her eyes and called to the land, asking for a good plant to use for curses. The flora seemed to respond almost as if it was alive and she pulled some roots into mid-sized ferns. She crumbled them up and placed them in the pot. Carefully she warmed the water's temperature to a boil and then cooled it down to a comfortable warmth. With a flick of her wrist a stream of the water jumped into the air and surrounded her burn. A soft, barely heard sigh escaped her lips.

When was the last time she'd even bathed? It had to be almost two weeks. She eyed the lightly steaming pot hungrily.

"What has happened? Where is the pale king?"

Startled from her reverie Brianna turned to glance at Frodo and smiled, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Master Hobbit! You missed the moment when Sam discovered that women's skin isn't made of cloth!"

Frodo looked at her dumbly then blushed when he noticed she was devoid of her tunic. Brianna grinned at them all. Wherever it was they lived clearly they didn't see much of the feminine body.

"Now," she said turning serious, "What did you mean by the pale king?"

"You didn't see him?" Frodo asked.

Brianna looked down at her water-covered wound and shook her head, "No, I was otherwise occupied by whom I am assuming to be their keeper. Strider fought off the black Riders, though."

Frodo, bless him, looked confounded. Brianna wasn't surprised. According to Merry the poor boy had put the bloody ring on his finger and was injured while he was invisible.

"Unless you mean the Black Riders? What is under their cloaks, anyone know?" She asked.

"Nothing any of us are likely to see if we are lucky."

Sam started and grabbed a log to brandish it at Strider. Brianna rolled her eyes.

"You don't have to scare the poor guys, Strider. You could just announce yourself. Where the hell did you go, anyway?" She asked.

Strider walked past Sam, who had placed the log back into the fire, and sat next to Brianna. He didn't seem overly concerned that her top half showed more skin than it normally did. Oddly, Brianna was a bit disappointed. Part of her took pleasure from making the man squirm.

He wasn't staring at her, but at the plant next to her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Athalas. How did you…," he blinked and breathed out, "You made it grow."

She nodded, "It's a thing I can do." Brianna glanced longingly at the pot before waving her hand in its direction, "If it will help Frodo's wound use it. I made enough."

He stared at her, expression devoid of any emotion, which told her that he was unsettled again. Strider wasn't always easy to read, but Brianna had caught on to his tendency to wipe away all expression from his face.

"Thank you, Brianna," he said and moved the pot to where Frodo was to wash and dress his would.

Brianna sighed and checked her own wound. The charcoal stain on her skin was slowly receding. She glanced at the plant Strider had named "Athalas" and tilted her head ever so slightly.

 _This stuff works fast. How exciting_ , she thought.

Frodo recounted his side of the story. After the elf appeared and Brianna threw him out of their refuge the Riders had pushed their way in. The two who glided past Strider and the hobbits were struck with a great fear. Frodo; however, was compelled to put on the ring which he did. When he did so the Riders before him turned into pale kings.

"You mean they actually looked like kings?" Brianna asked, halting Frodo's story.

"Yes, but they seemed muted. It was as if they were ghosts, but yet weren't," he tried to explain.

Brianna didn't need him to go into further detail. She fixed her eyes on Strider.

"Necromancy? These are soul wraiths. Elven necromancers can't do that and Raiphahim and The Fallen need a lot of help to do it," she said.

"Help had been given," Strider said, "the Nine are bearers of rings of power made by The Dark Lord."

 _Of course they are!_ She thought.

"So the rings keep them here even after their bodies are gone? If we removed the hood we would see semi-corporal spirits?" She asked.

"Essentially, yes," Strider confirmed.

Brianna, disturbed, nodded for Frodo to continue his story. The hobbit explained how he drew his sword in response to the pale king's appearance and attacked him crying the name of Elbereth. He struck the king, but also felt something like a poison dart jab into his shoulder.

Strider, once told all beckoned for Sam and Brianna to follow him to the front of the hollow and a little bit outside. Once they were well out of earshot Brianna crossed her arms and waited for Strider to say whatever it was he felt he needed to.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I think I understand things better now," he said in a low voice.

"What sort of things?" Sam asked.

Brianna uncrossed her arms and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. She met Strider's blue gaze.

"You seem to have a diagnosis of Frodo's wound, or something more of an educated guess?" She asked.

Strider nodded and continued, "There seem only to have been five of the enemy. Why they were not all here, I don't know; but I don't think they expected to be resisted. They have drawn off for the time being. But not far, I fear. They will come again another night, if we cannot escape. They are only waiting, because they think that their purpose is almost accomplished, and that the Ring cannot fly much further. I fear that they believe your master has a deadly wound that will subdue him to their will."

Brianna swallowed. The wound had been cursed, but she hadn't been sure what that curse was and how it worked. Strider seemed to be implying that…

"Are you saying Frodo's turning into a wraith?" She asked.

Sam choked with tears and she drew him into a hug. Something about the hobbits brought out her rarely used maternal instincts and this was serious news.

"We shall see!" Strider said hastily. "Don't despair! Your Frodo is made of sterner stuff than I had guessed, though Gandalf hinted that it might prove so. He is not slain, and I think he will resist the evil power of the wound longer than his enemies expect. I will do all I can to help and heal him. Go back to him now, I must speak with Brianna."

Sam retreated into the hollow. Brianna watched him go for a minute before glancing at Strider. He looked grave and she wasn't certain if it had anything to do with her or not.

"What healing do you know?" He asked.

She shrugged, "Enough to stay alive. I can make Frodo comfortable, maybe even still the pain for a little while, but I cannot cure him."

Strider sighed and looked worn, almost haggard. It was as if he became both younger and older – young in how lost his expression seemed and old by the worn tan of his face and beard – and Brianna felt for him. Tentatively she rested her right hand gently on his left arm. He looked at her eyes sad.

"How long until we reach Imladris?" She asked.

"Fifteen days with luck on our side," he responded.

"We don't need luck I have magic. What do you need from me?" She asked.

Hope sparked in his eyes again. Brianna knew when to recognize it. She'd seen that very war in her own real irises for so many years. He relaxed ever so slightly and whatever age Strider was showed less. He looked much younger, like he was twenty-eight instead of the forty or so he appeared, and Brianna smiled softly at him. When was the last time she'd ever felt like a comforter?

 _I've fought for fifty years and I haven't felt this much compassion and empathy in a long time. What is wrong with me?_ She thought.

Something of that thought must have been reflected in her eyes because his gaze softened and he clasped her hand in his, "I need you to focus as much of your power on keeping Frodo alive. The plant you grew is called Athalas. It looks like a weed, but it has healing properties unmatched by many plants and will give Frodo relief for a time. I must go for a time. I have need to search the land. I must gather food for us and discover which way is the best for us to go."

He let her go and stepped into the night. Brianna watched him for a time until the land obscured him from view. She stepped back into the hollow and helped Frodo with his wound.

* * *

Far into the downs by the road that led from Bree a Knight Elf stood before the wraiths licking their proverbial wounds. None had completely expected resistance. Erebus had known Huntress Davis was with that little party of rugged travelers. What he hadn't anticipated was the competence of the human guiding them.

The human was a large man, a little over six feet tall, with shoulder length matted black hair and an equally scruffy black beard. His eyes had been focused, calculating, and clearly singleminded when attempting to kill his opponent. Brianna Davis was a different fighter, of course, as she favored setting eighty percent of her enemies on fire and then slitting their throats the rest of the time. Fighting her was fun and led to ingenious tricks that kept him on his toes. This ranger didn't bother with flamboyance. He would simply kill his enemies and nothing more.

It was a problem; however, a problem that needed solving soon. Both elf and human would be a liability in their quest for the ring. They would resist them at every turn; especially Brianna who could have vaporized him and made the Nazgul miserable for many weeks if she hadn't been fighting with caution. Such a problem couldn't be dealt with slowly not with the sensitive nature of their mission.

 _Her wish to not harm others has always been a weakness_ , he thought. _We can use_ _this to our advantage_.

Erebus stood before the Riders with a dark frown marring his otherwise beautiful face. One of the kings, he noticed, had lost his dark cloak. Because he was a sorcerer Erebus was able to see the faint outline of the Witch King.

The wraiths were certainly pale. Eyes stared at him from sunken sockets and a mockery of skin could be made out from the shadows. All of the nine were like this: suspended between the living and the dead. Mab had helped them appear more solid in the world, but couldn't fix their appearance. He would need to find new cloaks for them.

"Are you certain the hobbit had the ring?" He asked.

"I saw him clearly as if my sight returned," the Witch King hissed.

Erebus remained calm. He needed to. Mab's deal with Sauron depended on his ability to remain level-headed. The wound in his stomach throbbed as the magic from Armaros – one of the first angels to turn against the Triune – but he refrained from displaying any outward pain. Such weakness would be the death of him if not by the Nazgul then by Mab.

"And you stabbed him with…" he asked.

"A morgul blade. The blade has a curse that will ensnare and turn him into our thrall. Then we will take the hobbit to the dark lord," the king said.

Erebus breathed out a long drawn out breath. Sometimes he wasn't surprised Sauron was able to break them.

"Did you see the elf-woman?" He asked patiently.

The five collectively hissed. Erebus waited for them to finish their display. The Nazgul seemed to have an increased sense of each other's collective thoughts that was unattainable by conventional means. If one felt displeasure the others did as well. Minions who could work as a cohesive unit would help matters greatly in the war to come. Unfortunately all would be lost if they didn't take care of a small problem.

"Evidently you did," he remarked dryly, "Let me enlighten you of her. She has powers beyond any elf in this world. She will find a way to kill you, rings or no, and she will discover the best way to ensure Baggins survives. The ring can't enter Rivendell. Help me capture her and your master will have two treasures beyond all measure."

"Capture?" The Witch King hissed.

Erebus chucked, "Yes, of course! Her great uncle Hades hasn't seen a single member of his family for three thousand years. He would be delighted to see his niece. Let it not be said Lord Erebus of Shadows keeps families apart from each other. I love only to reunite."

"Why?" The Witch King asked.

It didn't matter why, though Mab had plans for the great granddaughter of Zeus ven Turthin, but he couldn't convey them to the Nazgul. Not all of them at least as there were some talking points he could convey.

"She is the granddaughter of the bitch who trapped Lord Hades and his wife the Lady Persephone into the seventh gate of hell. My Queen Mab wishes to keep her alive to offer Lord Hades a boon for his services. Services, I may add, that will benefit your Master," he explained.

 _So long as Queen Mab continues to find him useful_ , he decidedly didn't add.

They only had one goal. It had been outlined ever since Queen Mab pulled Hades, Persephone and Aries from their prison. Brianna Davis was their target. She was one of the best hunters in OLYMPUS. They needed to tread carefully or they'd lose Baggins, the Ring, and Doctor Davis.

"The Dark Lord will have Baggins and the elf-witch. We will ensure it," said the Witch King.

Erebus smiled and replied, "Of course. I suspect you will."

* * *

Strider returned to find that no ill befell his companions. Brianna, free to use her magic without fear of recourse, had set traps along the perimeter of their camp. He had no illusions about being able to avoid them. She's heard his approach thirty minutes prior would have disengaged the traps along the path he took. For that he was grateful. He had no wish to be on the receiving end of such a malevolent bit of trickery.

She sat by the fire helping Sam cook a soup of a bit of their remaining supplies. The firelight reflected in her long braided hair. He found himself held in momentary awe by how her hair reminded him of bronze. Elves typically had three types of hair color: silver, blond and brown. While there were a few different shades they were few and far between. None of them could ever be described as arrayed with bronze.

Brianna turned her attention to him and slowly stood. The tunic she had worn was still discarded on the ground, but the dark burn had disappeared. She smiled, a cautious one, as their truce remained tentative. Strider nodded to her, but felt no longer felt mistrust. The attack had proven her for the ally she was.

"I found more of the plant and then a few for Frodo's pain and discomfort. There is little in this wilderness, but a few medicinal herbs grow," he said and handed the stems and carefully cut roots.

She stared at her hand, eyes wide, and asked, "How did you know I'll need this?"

"I know the land and have grasped a rudimentary understanding of the nature of your magic," he said.

He turned away and inspected the entrance of the hollow in the daylight. A black cloak pooled on the stone in a crumbled heap. Strider knelt and lifted it up to inspect. A tear near the hem was the only indication of a wound inflicted.

"This," he said, showing the cloak to him, "is the evidence of Frodo's defense. It is; however, the only damage done to the enemy."

Brianna reached for the cloak. Strider handed it to her solemnly and watched as she inspected the cut made by Sting. She frowned.

"When Frodo put the ring on he could see through these cloaks," she muttered and glanced at the hobbit who was now awake and watching, "I honestly can't think of any enchanted jewelry that can plunge a person into the world between life and death."

Strider observed her as she closely studied the cloak. It clearly bothered her though he couldn't fathom the reason why. One hundred and sixty-nine years of living and she'd spent most of it studying and fighting monsters and shadows. Her insight would be valuable, though likely nothing older elves like Lord Elrond hadn't already divined. Despite this Strider believed it best to hear her conclusions on the matter of the ring with the little information they could give her.

While Brianna thought quietly to herself on matters of the otherworld Strider inspected the ground below again. The object he found turned his blood to ice.

"This," he said and drew the gaze of the others, "was more dangerous to Frodo."

He held up a long knife notched at the end. As it caught in the light the blade melted to the hilt. Brianna started and went white.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" She cursed.

She rushed to his side and took the hilt from him to better inspect it. Strider observed her real eyes and how they widened in horror at what she saw. Slowly she turned to gaze at Frodo with a look of utter horror etched along the lines of her eyes and mouth.

"What is it?" Frodo asked.

"A blade of dark magic. The curse is evil and its purpose is to enslave you to their will. You will fade away until you become little more than a shade to them – lesser than the black rider who stabbed you – all for the purpose of obtaining the ring," Strider explained.

Brianna looked pale and her eyes were fixed on the handle with the expression of one who had seen something disgusting and needed to glare at it until it went away. Strider watched her trace the hilt with one small but thin finger. Her eyes burned and body coiled like a tense spring.

"I can do something for Frodo with what we have and with my skill, but not much else," she told him after a while.

He nodded, "Do what you need to do."

Wordlessly she handed the hilt back to him and moved back towards Frodo. Strider looked from her to the hilt of the knife. Brianna didn't seem worse for wear after touching it. Elves of Arda could barely brush against evil relics of the past let alone a cursed knife carried by one of the black Riders.

 _But you are not from Arda_ , he thought, _and I suspect we will all be reminded for as long as you walk among our peoples._

* * *

 _I hate curses! They're tricky and terrible and make me feel weak for not being able to do anything about them!_ She thought irately.

Brianna bent to inspect the wound and surrounding limbs. The arm connected to his shoulder, she told him, was rendered useless by the curse. Gently they worked to heat more water and crush the leaves of the Athalas plant she'd already grown. Brianna, for her part, took out her knife and began to boil water around the metal became hot to where a red sheen glowed around the edge. Carefully she cooled it just as the leaves reached a boiling point and filled their little camp with a fragrant aroma.

"The smell makes my wound hurt less, but I can't really lift or feel my arm," Frodo told them.

"I'll fix that bit for you, Frodo, but you're not going to enjoy the process," she told him.

She circled her index finger in the air and their concoction of leaves and water began to lift into the air in a steady stream. Brianna turned to him and pointed the knife's point at his arm.

"I'm going to need you to lift your sleeve," she instructed.

"Why?" He asked.

"Best you just do it," she said gravely.

Frodo nervously began to roll up his sleeve. She watched him while keeping note of the blade's temperature. She didn't want it to cool down too much, just enough so it would only cauterize the wound she was about to inflict as small as it might be.

"Take a deep breath Frodo," she instructed and readied the knife.

He did and Brianna sharply stabbed the point into his forearm. He cried out and she willed the water to thin into a near microscopic stream before it entered his muscle tissue and the one blood vein she dared open. Then she pushed the remaining water back into the pot. Sharply Brianna heated the knife again and pressed the flat of the blade against his skin. Frodo cried out again, this time much louder, and Strider moved to hold him in place. Brianna removed the knife from his skin and lifted the Athalas infused water to press against the burn and soothe it into a healing stance.

"What did that do?" Sam asked.

"This will give Frodo some use of his arm, but not for long and I won't be able to do this again. Infusions like this are bad for anyone's body let alone a hobbit's. if I had a needle and an infusion bag it would have been a different story, but I don't," she said.

"What do we do now?" Asked Merry.

"Leave as quickly as we can," Brianna said, "Though I wouldn't suggest trying to make Frodo walk. I don't think he'd make it."

"He wouldn't," Strider agreed, "we will put him on the back of Bill and divide the packs between us."

All of them turned to look at the once-thin-now-fattening pony grazing on a bit of grass in a little mock-pen Sam has concocted for him. Brianna hadn't given much thought about the pony. It hadn't been of much note other than to observe Sam's clear and present love for the thing.

"Will he be able to keep Frodo on his back?" Pippin asked.

"It's… possible. He can support the weight of packs," Brianna said.

"We will have to make due. The going will be slower, but I suppose we can't help that," Strider said.

They set about gathering their things and eating a fast cold meal along the way. Brianna used bits and pieces of leather and cloth to pull together a very rough saddle for Frodo. When they strapped him into it the hobbit seemed to be stable and Bill wasn't too worse for wear with the added weight.

Once all looked as secure and ready as the could make it Strider led them out to the east with every intention of cutting past and over the road and into a heavily wooded area where firewood could be easily accessible. Brianna led Bill with every intention of keeping an eye on Frodo. Her thoughts were far away from their journey and her charge; however, for each thought in her head warred with her consciousness concerning Erebus.

The knight elf couldn't be the only one that crossed over. There had to have been more than just him.

 _I can't even make an educated guess,_ she thought, _Erebus, according to my aunt, hadn't declared for anyone for a very long time. Who on earth is he working for?_

"I feel a bit better," Frodo said after a while.

She smiled at him, "Good. It won't last forever, but it might help for a while."

They continued on in what Brianna assumed was a comfortable silence. She was lost in her thoughts concerning Erebus. A sense, a small piece of vital memory, was lost on her recollection. She couldn't pull it no matter how hard she tried. Once, maybe, a long time ago when she still actively practiced her scholarship, but those days were gone.

Twenty-five years gone to be exact, she thought morosely.

"Thank you, Miss Davis," Frodo spoke and effectively shattered her train of thought, "you've been particularly kind to us even if we always haven't."

She smiled, "My people exist as servants and protectors. I never would have abandoned you no matter how untrusting you were."

She was referring more to Strider than the hobbits. The latter had been surprisingly trusting of her presence yet possibly the most in danger. Carefully she led Frodo and Bill over a set of jagged rocks.

"I'm afraid," he said, "I don't want to turn into a wraith."

"I won't let that happen!" She said just a tad too passionately than she meant, "We will get you to Rivendell alive. I promise you that."

 _No more,_ she thought, _no more failure. This time no one dies!_


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Friends of a Name**

 **Author's Note:** _Took a bit longer for me to finish this one. I was stuck on imagining what to include that wasn't a Brianna or Aragorn POV in this chapter and then work and reading caught up to me. Plus traveling this month took a lot more time off of my hands than I thought it would. Work has been interesting which also took away from my writing for a little bit. When I have been writing I've been working on editing my original work, Elf-Beast, which is of no relation to the LOTR work posted on this site (though the one on this site helped give me the idea for it's creation). Enjoy this chapter! I get into some world-building lore that help explain a little bit about the division of worlds and then also some character history._

* * *

"You're pain's been getting worse and you didn't bother to say a damn thing? Are you trying to die and piss me off, Frodo, because you're doing one hell of a job!"

Strider looked up from where he helped Sam cut the last of their potatoes. Their elf friend was in rare form today with her foul language (most unbecoming of her race) and indignant worry. Frodo, for his part, merely sat on the ground nearest the fire and took her ranting in silence. It didn't escape his notice that the young hobbit's eyes were cast to the ground and doing their best to avoid meeting her gaze. He didn't blame his charge in the least as it seemed that a Brianna on edge and worried was not an ideal Brianna to displease.

"She's got a right foul temper on her, Strider," Sam muttered.

Strider didn't respond. Sam wasn't used to elves and likely didn't know that Brianna could hear them in such close quarters. Despite this she didn't give a hint that she heard the remark as she laid upon Frodo's shoulders a great and terrifying dialogue of all the cruel things she was going to do to him if he ever ignored his wound again. Brianna was right to be concerned. Strider had made the call to make for the road despite his misgivings. Reason; however, won out. The land in the wooded hills became too impassible save for The Last Bridge. There was no helping it. They had to cross and it meant returning to the road.

Frodo remained silent as she set about inspecting his wound. She backed away looking grim.

"Well, there's not much I can do about it. You need the hands of a real healer. I'm not. I may have been able to help stave off the more lethal effects until Rivendell, but even then I can't be sure. Sit by the fire and eat something. I'll scout around," and with that she faded into the growing shadows.

Strider moved and placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder. The young hobbit held his hands clasped before him. The firelight cast deep shadows on his face that promoted deep ridges once covered by healthy fat. All of them looked less like happy country folk and more like wild children of men. Sadly, Frodo looked far too pale to be both healthy and of the wild.

"Just now," Frodo said in a small voice, "she reminded me of Gandalf. He would have said the same thing."

Strider grimaced a smile, "That he would have. It is a shame we could not meet up with him. The wisdom of wizards would have been welcomed."

The other hobbits joined them. Sam offered Frodo a bowl of the finished soup. The invalid gingerly took the offering in his uninjured hand, set it on the ground and began to eat. Sam ladled food out for Merry, Pippin and Strider before taking some for himself.

"I'll keep the pot over the fire so Miss Brianna can have some when she gets back," Sam muttered and sipped some of the soup.

"I suspect she will be grateful for the gesture," Strider said.

The hobbits ate their food. Frodo took his time as he only had one hand to work with at that moment. Once all were finished they huddled around the fire and tried to fall into varying degrees of a fitful slumber. Strider watched the flames absently as he considered the road they needed to take.

"We will soon be on the road."

He looked over his shoulder at Brianna who approached as silently as a stalking cat. Elves were quite good at not being heard. The darkness, it seemed, held no sway over her. Faintly her skin glowed white like moonlight. As she approached the fire it did not abate and reflected the orange flames. She lowered herself next to him and smiled.

"But," she continued, "there isn't a sign of the enemy, so that's a blessing. A bit of one at least."

"They must be waiting for Frodo's condition to deteriorate," he remarked.

She nodded and turned away from him to watch the flames. He noticed much of the dirt and grime had been washed off of her skin and clothes. Her hair, once pulled back into a tight braid, now spilled over her shoulders in long bronze waves. The tips of some strands were longer than the others as if she purposefully cut them to frame her body in a certain way.

"Busy, were you?" He asked.

Brianna didn't ask what he meant and shrugged before answering, "I didn't go to the river. I had to find a secluded rock pile and bring water to me. Where I come from people, humans included, wash their entire bodies every day. The grime was driving me nuts."

Strider repressed a smile. Such a… feminine urge! It was endearing.

"In such a case I am surprised you made it this long," he said.

She snorted, "I wasn't going to bathe around men. Besides, you couldn't even handle me taking my tunic off. I certainly couldn't bathe around you!"

Strider remembered. She had been far more appealing than he'd originally wanted to admit. Elves of Middle Earth were typically tall and thin with very little else to recommend them other than a stagnant beauty. Arwen, Elrond's daughter, was an example of an exception to the rule and only because she had human blood, however distant, running through her veins.

"Did your family mix with humans?" He asked.

"Oh yes, that's far more common on earth than you would think. We have to protect you. That's our creed, but by the Triune you lot breed like rabbits!" She said, laughing quietly.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _that assessment is not unfounded. We do reproduce quickly._

They sat in silence for a good long while staring at the flames. Yellow, orange and red flickered and twined through the other participating in its solemn dance. Despite their hypnotic light Strider didn't feel tired. He was alert, stiff in the neck, and muscles strung taught. Any moment now a rider or that foul being Brianna fought could appear and try to steal away Frodo and the Ring.

"Strider," she said, "go to sleep. I've warded this place and I can stay awake longer than you. Rest for a few hours."

He shook his head, "In truth I can't. Too much horror plagues my mind. I will not be rested."

She looked at him. Her eyes sent a shiver up the length of his spine. From fear or wonder he knew not only that she seemed to look right through him. A being of another world who was more of the heavens than of the mortal world.

"What do you think you're going to do? Defeat all the evil in the world if you just stay awake the entire night?" She asked.

"No," he said, "that is not it."

"Then stop worrying about things you can't help and go to sleep."

He held her gaze for a bit longer than sighed. She was unmoved. Gingerly Strider stretched out on the ground and bundled his extra cloak under his head to sleep.

"Good night, Strider," she said almost as an afterthought.

"Aragorn," he said, "my name is Aragorn."

He didn't expect to hear her soft reply, but as he drifted off into a fitful sleep several minutes later he did. It jolted him awake again with a start for a single moment. His heart pounded in his chest and cheeks flushed warm.

"Mine is Aracasse."

Strider – nay, Aragorn – didn't react. He forced his mind to calm and drifted back into that same troubled state of unconsciousness he was used to.

* * *

Brianna wanted to pull her hair out. To think that the two of them shared each other's real names, to have made herself vulnerable in such a way as to speak her name to the open. Irrationally – because she did ward the place before returning to camp – she worried that a soy from her enemy's bosom may have overheard her. The light snores from Strider – Aragorn – lifted into the night's air beside her. She hugged her knees to her chest and worried her bottom lip. She hurried her head into her knees. How long had it been since she even spoke that name? Three years? Four?

She looked to the sky. Stars scattered thickly across the vast canvas of space. None were recognizable. Even so, despite how foreign she felt, there was still beauty to be found. As Earth grew in industry with each passing year the artificial lighting blanked out the stars of the sky. While such growth was exciting and helped by the elves themselves the lack of a night light show was disappointing. Brianna remembered the days long passed when very little industry existed. Despite the beauty before her and the comfort found in pondering history she experienced the shock felt deep into her bones continued to unsettle her. It was as if she brought the past to life by saying that name – the one she would rather forget – and the fate she was destined to have ever loomed before her.

Aracasse ven Aldura. That hated, cursed name! Everyone who suffered and died for her did so because if that terrible name! She loathed it as much as she despised herself.

Strider – Aragorn – shifted in his sleep. Sam muttered something about petunias being hard to grow. Merry and Pippin seemed to be dreaming about fireworks and ale. Frodo slept like the dead.

One day all of them would know her name. Now that she told it to Aragorn it was only fair to inform the others… eventually. Not now, though. This time she would enjoy the luxury of anonymity. Strider didn't know the significance of it and likely would understand her need to remain unknown. The Hobbits, like everyone else, would be awestruck.

 _If we don't die first_ , she thought morosely.

Erebus couldn't be the only one in Arda. He never worked alone and was known for being hired by various entities for a considerable price. Whoever sent him needed him to befriend Sauron and help him find his ring.

 _But to what end? Why did they need to come here? Sauron wouldn't – couldn't – possibly be a reliable ally. What's in it for him if he comes to help them do whatever it is they want to do? Arda? Sauron could take Arda if he tried. He's been a thorn in their side for as long as Ba'al had been in mine. What do they want?_ She wondered while glaring at the flames.

She stood in one fluid motion. The position of the moon told her it was time to check the viability of her runes and reinforce whatever she needed to. The sleeping men did not stir.

* * *

Cairo was hot and dry and dusty. Maf never had been a fan of Egypt. Deserts were impractical at best and living hell at worst. It was why, in his early years when the Fertile Crescent region of the Middle East looked like it was being taken over by sand, he'd packed his bags and traveled northwest into what was now known as Europe. He'd never gone to Egypt purposefully and never thought to set foot there for any sort of casual stroll. His mother may had enjoyed the excitement of battle, myth and political and social intrigue of the region, but Europe was something far more predictable and calming. When Cronus became king of the elves Maf had moved to Gaul just in case the usurper king tried to go after him.

The Raiphahim and the dark Fae that ruled Egypts lands as gods and goddesses hadn't appealed to him. His mother enjoyed the discourse between the two and played her clever games with them during that reign. All the while, Maf had remained in Gaul watching the movements of Queen Mab and The Morrighan as they sought to ensnare the human populations. The elves lived in seclusion trying to escape notice of both usurper kings, Cronus and Odin, and built a life of myth and fable. The humans didn't worship them. Maf had pointedly started the order of the druids and wise women – the humans with elven blood running through their veins with no place on the earth other than as his students – to counter act the worship of The Morrighan and Mab.

What became the beginning of the end was the arrival of Athena ven Turthin out of the vast expanse of forest from the east. Prince Hades, lord of the undead and the necromatic arts, had placed a violent curse upon her that caused her body to waste away.

Maf smiled at that memory. Athena had certainly been one of a kind. She had a will of iron that snapped in two when it broke, but could also be forged together again into something stronger and more durable. Brianna was exactly like her grandmother in that respect and many more. Reluctant to be queen, defender of the week, as stubborn as a mule, as brittle as glass, and as brilliant a battle tactician as anyone could be. It was expected of the granddaughter of the elven queen of wisdom and battle and worshipped as such by the Greeks.

"But she gets herself into trouble, just as Athena did," he muttered to himself.

"What?"

Maf started from his reverie and glanced at Artemis whose expression could only be described as incredulous. He rolled his eyes.

 _She must think I'm starting to go senile_ , he thought.

"I'm remembering your sister, Athena, and how much like her Brianna is," he said.

Artemis blinked at him for a moment before nodding and continuing her trek down the scorching paved street of Cairo. Just then a powerful gust of wind bulldozed through the streets and kicked up an angry cloud of sand. The dusty grit slapped Maf in the face and he coughed and sputtered in an attempt to banish the offending stuff from his nose and throat.

She laughed, "However did you survive the days you were forced to come here?"

The wind returned to its gentle breeze. Maf clapped his hands together before wiping the dust off of his face. Artemis, of course, had opted for a blue head scarf and tunic and brown pants. Knee high boots curve along her calves and down into the sand. They were heavy, practically seamless structurally and could trudge through the desert without allowing an ounce of sand in. Dwarf made, he guessed, and likely the ones who lived along the coast where ruins of old cities lay in their crumbling misery. All dwarves tended to live underground. Few of them stay closer to the surface and those tended to live in desert climates.

"I didn't. I was the most miserable sot to ever exist. And so was Brianna, might I add! She hates the desert just as much as I do!" He exclaimed far more dramatic than he had meant.

Such an outburst was met with the appropriate chortle from Artemis' throat. Maf would have felt his cheeks flush as red as a tomato, but his body was too over heated as it was to generate any extra.

Some half-elf I've turned out to be! I was born in these regions and I can't even insulate myself in this heat! He thought.

"Brianna acts more like a princess then she cares to admit," Artemis quipped.

"And what are you trying to insinuate?" He asked indignantly.

"Nothing, I assure you," she replied with a side tilt to her lips.

Maf shook his head and they continued to their destination. A large apartment building loomed before them a few blocks from what was considered the old Cairo district. They entered the building and he breathed in the clean air conditioned environment that was thankfully devoid of dusty sand particles. Artemis removed her head scarf and hung it at the crook of her left arm. Slowly they climbed the winding staircase to the fourth floor and slipped into a dimly lit hallway.

"Here it is!" Artemis chirped.

Etched in Arabic from brass was the number 456. Maf frowned to himself. He missed the beauty of the more ancient languages of his people. Babylon; especially, had enraptured him. But all things came to an end in that regard as the land changed and the desert invaded the fertile lands. Maf had left after the death of Japheth his forefather during the reign of Laurealasse.

As he remained lost in his thoughts the door opened and blank white eyes peered out of the door. Silver-white hair settled on a frail, thin shoulder and framed a delicate face all angles and perfectly smooth planes. As fragile as a lily, Ailya ven Du'Gratha, high seer of the elves and prophetess of the Triune, still unsettled all who met her with those twin pools of unseeing eyes that seemed to stare into a person'a soul.

"Mafortion Japhethelion and Artemis ven Turthin you are most welcome to this house," Ailya greeted sagely.

"Your hospitality is most welcome," Maf replied before Artemis could.

"We found many troubling things in the past few days," Ailya informed them before stepping to one side to let them through, "we have much to discuss. I fear it is unsettling news."

"Such incidents always unearth unsettling news," Artemis remarked dryly as she stepped passed Maf and through the doorway, "and my niece always seems to be the herald of it."

Maf rolled his eyes. Artemis certainly possessed her own dramatic streak. He followed after into the dimly lit living space. Loki was already there splayed out on a grand red velvet couch looking as relaxed as he always did. Blond hair fell around his shoulders and gold eyes peered at them from under hooded lids.

"Good afternoon, Loki," he greeted.

The Elder smiled, "Greetings son of the historian. I've heard your apprentice continues to resist taking your lessons in caution seriously. She's certainly full of spirit."

"Of a sort, yes," Maf replied wryly.

The Elder stood and his form shimmered and changed into a diminished version of the grand elf male. His face, once that of a proud elven male from the north with a strong square chin and broad cheekbones, subsided into a thin angular face. His eyes remained gold and the same light of mischief glowed within.

"The situation she currently landed herself in seems to be graver than we first thought," Loki said.

Artemis' lips thinned and Maf watched her slide a glance to Ailya. The female Elder inclined her head. On most daily occasions the seer kept her expression blank and emotionless so as to remain as detached from mortals as she could while the Triune communed with her and she, him. This day was different. Even she looked unsettled.

"I fear it is a serious matter. Mab descended into hell six days ago. I felt the change in the atmosphere as it happened. She seeks to bring forth the one she believes is elven king. Prince Hades the blooded son of the usurper king has left hell, but is not on this earth. I fear these rips were made to herald his coming," she explained.

"Rips?" Maf asked.

"There are walls separating one reality from another. The best I can describe them is this: they're the veil between galaxy's that keep us from experiencing omnipresence and maintains a balanced natural order to our worlds. Such an occurrence keeps the stars in our galaxy from being knocked out too drastically. The Morrighan tore through that barrier and into the nearest galaxy, Andromeda, to enter Arda a land much like our own with the occasional subtle nuance here and there. Brianna is there and so is Hades. He doesn't seem to be looking for her as of yet, but we can't get definitive answers until we go over there ourselves using what we know to hopefully decrease the strain placed on the wall at this present time," Loki explained.

Maf lowered himself to the couch and leaned his elbows on his knees. Few knew that his mother had gone to Arda and several other worlds shortly after the catastrophic flood that wiped out ninety-eight percent of the Earth's population. Those who did kept the copies of her recorded travels locked away safely to never be gazed at by anyone but those they deemed worthy. They didn't know much about inter-dimensional travel. It was, in fact, just as taboo as time travel but with less risk of disrupting the fabric of reality. Unless, it seemed, the traveling was done by sorcery which only enabled the direct damage to the wall between worlds.

"I am pleased to say that I didn't follow an ounce of what you said. However; it does seem to be important. I thought space separated us from different galaxies?" He asked.

Loki smirked, "For mortals and the simple minded 'space' is the best way we can describe this phenomenon."

It took Maf a long exercise in patience to refrain from answering Loki's smug sarcasm with a biting retort that wouldn't actually effect the man in any way. Raiphahim always held a modicum of arrogance, but Loki was in a different class of his own. Few of the Raiphahim ever took the path of righteousness. The history of their births were horrendous at worst and disgusting at best – a perversion of a blessing the Triune had hoped to introduce one day and was now ridiculously delayed. Loki hadn't followed the darkness despite being the son of The Fallen Heylel ben Shachar and the high knight elven sorceress, Kareyla di'Markeria. A master of lies and tricks Loki had played the evil and the light until the very end when those who would know his allegiances revealed them to the world much to a certain princess Rhaidien ven Aldura's astonishment.

Maf only knew what his mother had told him. Loki had never spoken of his early days; especially those with the princess, but enough was recorded from all who remembered many things could be learned. Maf never bothered to get into it. His focus was learning his magical craft he'd inherited from his mother. The fifth element – Syre – wriggled and writhed within his very soul. It begged for periodic release. Every once in a while he did just that and there were moments when that release allowed him to see glimpses of the immediate past and future. He never saw anything so far back since before the Triune allowed the dead and dying stars to reform themselves and begin anew after so many worlds had been ravaged.

It was why, according to Loki, inter-galaxy travel was limited by the walls created by space and time. Humans understood it to an extent and created their string theories and speculations on alternate realities. It wasn't that there were different universes. Everything existed in one gigantic universe for several millennia. The Triune created space and time in such a particular way that it took careful manipulation of that space and time to cross from one galaxy to another. Unless one happened to deal in sorcery and managed to pound right through it while shattering the wall in its wake.

Artemis didn't sit and remained standing with her legs two feet apart and arms grumpily crossed over her chest. Her lips pulled into a frown and her brows wrinkled in their deep furrow. Maf caught himself staring, again, and looked away with a curse. It seemed he never could quite erase this admiration for her.

"What could be in Arda that Mab would want? I doubt Hades would be thrilled with that unholy alliance as it is? What was the dick's name? Morgoth? The one who acted like he was some hot shot king of darkness? I doubt Hades will share with such a man," she remarked stoutly.

"Morgoth is chained," Ailya said gravely, "Sauron, his acolyte, is the one who currently holds power. He was temporarily diminished, but is regaining his strength. I see Brianna there, sometimes, and she is as safe as she can be. Erebus hunts her and another, but…" Ailya faltered and her typical mask broke into an uncertain frown.

Maf's brows rose. It was a rare thing to see their seer uncertain, but it manifested every so often. Clearly her world extended to only their galaxy and no where else. Andromeda was close enough to see glimpses, but not close enough to see all.

"There are shadows. They fight me and rage against me. I can't see the entirety of the situation. All I can know is that Brianna is safe for now, but is hunted all the same. The enemy knows she is there," she concluded.

"You can't see? I thought you can see everything?" Artemis asked.

"No, I can't see everything. My sight is limited to our galaxy and will not stretch beyond," Ailya said.

Maf glanced at Loki who watched their seer with no small amount of concern reflected in his eyes. The Elder Raiphahim merely shrugged and settled back into his previous position on the couch.

"What has been done as of now. Who knows she's missing?" Maf asked.

"Laurel sent word to Brianna's cousin. As regent he needs to know she's disappeared. The rest of the Elders are informed as is the wizard council and the Hunters, I'm assuming," Loki replied.

"I spoke with the Shadow Units. They'll be accompanying us to Arda to both find her and root out whatever evil decided to make themselves known to that world. Whatever pact Mab made with this Sauron we can't let it continue," Artemis said.

"I spoke with the wizard high council. They will bring our brightest minds together to make certain the process runs smoothly," Maf added.

Loki nodded, "I've a word with Thor. He's agreed to keep the peace on his side on threat of being turned into a chicken should I return and find the elven peoples in shambles. The dwarf king, Beowheln, is willing to work with your young wizard, Matthias, to create durable weapons and armor. We've already had words with the professor concerning progress of time in that world. She doesn't believe they've bettered themselves beyond what we consider Medieval. She's working with them to ensure period appropriate attire is manufactured."

Artemis nodded, "Good. We'll need to blend in as best we can. I don't want to place my hunters in too much danger until we completely understand the gravity of the situation."

"I intend to herald your coming," Ailya informed them, "my skills as a healer will be useful in gaining knowledge of the land. I will be able to see more once I'm there, of that I have no doubt. Once you arrive I can help inform you of the climate."

"I'll go in ahead as well," Maf said, "my main focus will be to find Brianna. You can direct me in her general direction and maybe even accurately see where she'll be," he told Ailya.

The seer inclined her head ever so slightly, "There is wisdom to this. I agree."

Maf caught Artemis' look and knew she most certainly did not like the suggestion. As per usual she didn't say a word and averted her gaze to Loki. As those two launched into a logistics debate Maf offered Ailya whisky from a crystal decanter on a side table nearest him. The polite curtesy helped hide the disappointing pang in his gut that always came up at least once when he was around the huntress.

* * *

They made it to the bridge the next day early in the morning. Brianna waited with the hobbits while Strider – Aragorn – inspected the bridge and the road beyond. He returned with a slight light in his eyes that made her mouth go dry. His eyes were quite beautiful when they weren't lost in somber thought.

"I can see no sign of the enemy," he said, "and I wonder very much what that means. But I have found something very strange."

He held out his hand, and showed a single pale-green jewel. Brianna leaned forward for closer inspection. The gem wasn't emerald or diamond, but it certainly seemed to have a similar clarity. She met his gaze with a raised brow.

"I found it in the mud in the middle of the Bridge," he said, answering her unvoiced question, "It is a beryl, an elf-stone. Whether it was set there, or let fall by chance, I cannot say; but it brings hope to me. I will take it as a sign that we may pass the Bridge; but beyond that I dare not keep to the Road, without some clearer token."

They passed over the bridge and went a little farther along the road before turning aside to step into the land beyond. With such a deep forest ruins of old villages and great buildings littered the land about them. Brianna felt the ever present itch to explore, observe, and look for clues of such clearly ancient life. The stones of each building felt old though she couldn't divine an exact age. She supposed she could have, but such a display of magic was risky this present time. Frodo's condition didn't allow for too much time to dally.

Strider took his time to tell them of the land around them when asked. Humans dwelt there and fell to darkness through some evil country or another.

"Their dwelling here has been long forgotten by most, even the land no longer remembers the touch of man," Strider explained.

 _And yet you seem to know all about such things the land forgot,_ Brianna thought and narrowed her eyes at his back, _Who are you, Aragorn who calls himself Strider?_

They walked for two days until rain began to cascade from the sky like a gigantic water fall. Brianna quickly sheltered them under some modified trees and moved the water away from their gathered wood so they could spark a fire. They waited out the night and set out again. It was still raining, but the drops fell in a thin mist instead of a torrential downpour. The hills rose higher and Brianna felt the air beginning to thin as high hills gave way into mountains only a few more miles away. Strider – Aragorn – turned them northward and well out of their intended pathway.

"I don't like this weather," he told her shortly after Sam took Bill's reigns and Brianna joined him silently.

Brianna smiled, "No one made it happen other than the Triune, bless his names."

The ranger didn't comment on the blatant expression of religious affinity, though he did seem to have done a double take. For Brianna, this was an experiment more than anything else. She knew so little of her people that chose to settle in this world and she wanted to learn as much as she could without asking too many questions. Strider's reaction could have meant several different things, but the lack of incredulousness told her that deity worship of elves was not uncommon. At least there was some familiarity in that regard.

"I know, but the weather makes our journey slower and worse for Frodo. He can't remain in the cold for too long," he said.

"It will pass soon. The winds are blowing from the south and the rain will be redirected elsewhere," she assured him.

"It's been ten days. I can't say how much longer Frodo will remain stable," he responded.

Brianna placed a hand on his shoulder, gave a quick squeeze, and removed it. Strider – Aragorn – started as if he hadn't expected any sort of familial comfort from her. Something clearly the females of her kind refrained from expressing. As usual he didn't remark on the oddity.

"We will get Frodo to Rivendell safe and sound. He will be healed even if I have to carry him the rest of the way on may back and leave you lot behind," she promised.

He smiled wryly, "You don't know the way."

She shrugged, "I'm only speaking in desperate terms. That may not need to happen."

The walked in silence as listened to the soft chatter of the hobbits behind them. They camped for the night and Strider made Brianna sleep the entire night so as to help her regain any energy she might have lost in the last couple of days she never slept. This night, after she warmed Frodo's cloak to mimic a heated blanket, she settled close to where Strider – Aragorn – sat to keep the night watch.

 _Just in case he needs to wake me for any reason_ , she told herself.

She settled down and closed her eyes. A breathing exercise she'd leaned long ago when she resolved to try and keep a regular human sleep schedule was brought forth from the recesses of her mind. With a steady intake of small breaths over thirty minutes she would drift away.

"Good night, Aracasse," he whispered.

Startled from the beginnings of her exercise Brianna opened her eyes and met his. They gazed at her with an intensity that made her mouth go dry again and butterflies form in her stomach.

"Good night, Aragorn," she whispered and returned to her attempt to fall asleep.

It took longer than it normally did this time. Brianna attributed it to his using her real name. Maybe, just maybe, his intense searching expression unsettled her as well, but she wasn't too keen on trying to discern the reason why.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **Flight to the Fjord**

 **Author's Muse:** _Rejoice! Another chapter is upon us! I kept some themes from the original Consequences story. Those of you who read the previous will recognize them, but I've added more to it. This chapter is particularly book quite heavy (as in, I got lazy and copy-pasted from the kindle LOTR to my story), but it has my own flare in it despite that. There are some descriptions and dialogue that work the best from Tolkien's voice. I did change a big point of Brianna's character development in this chapter from the original. Let me know if you can spot it :3_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Their detour through the hills had ended in a disappointed Strider announcing that it was best to return to the road. The descent to the road had relieved much of Frodo's weariness and he was able to continue the trek without much difficulty after a while. Brianna continued to guide and help him as best she could despite the increase in her own discomfort. Worrying about Frodo's health and the safety of the other hobbits was cause enough for stress. Something strange changed concerning her relationship with Strider/Aragorn and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. What she did understand was that the exchange of each other's names had awakened a new level of intimacy that few shared. What made it all the more unsettling was how willing he was to call her by that cursed name.

She dared not ask why. Brianna suspected that the ranger didn't quite see the full scope of this change in their discourse. Even if he did she suspected that he didn't want to notice.

Pippin found a path in the later afternoon after a couple of days traversing down the hills toward a river Strider termed to be the Loudwater. It was old, clearly unused for at least sixty years, but clear in most places and made through what Brianna could tell to be the easiest path to the river. Frodo was able to traverse it with ease. Despite this their trek was cautious lest something unexpected spring upon them.

 **Suddenly coming out of a belt of fir-trees it ran steeply down a slope, and turned sharply to the left round the corner of a rocky shoulder of the hill. When they came to the corner they looked round and saw that the path ran on over a level strip under the face of a low cliff overhung with trees. In the stony wall there was a door hanging crookedly ajar upon one great hinge. (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Ch 12, pg 204, Kindle Edition).**

Brianna stared at it through slitted eyes and motioned for Sam to take the reigns from her. Strider followed closely behind her glancing warily at the terrain in an effort to cover her back. They managed to open the door a bit wider – the first clue for them that the door had been hanging ajar for many years – and stepped into the cavern beyond. Brianna lifted her hand and focused. Fire briefly flared in her hand before it began turning yellow, then blue, then white. The fire smoothed into a bright happy glow that she released into the air to light the cavern.

It was quite disappointing in terms of creepiness. On the other hand old bones, empty pots and broken jars littered the ground. The urge to go in and excavate the cavern came upon her and she closed her eyes and breathed. Sadly, those days were long over but it didn't diminish the longing for them.

"What is this place?" She asked.

"Once I suspect it was a troll hoard, but no longer. It is abandoned," Strider remarked.

Pippin had slipped behind them to get a peek. He shuddered.

"That's definitely a troll hoard if ever I saw one," he said, "let's get away from here."

Strider voiced his affirmative and moved away. Brianna looked longingly into the cave. If time had permitted she would have gone in and spent a few hours looking for old relics. A release of breath pulled her away from the scene and returned to Frodo and the others.

"What's wrong?" Frodo asked as she twined Bill's reigns around her fingers.

She blinked. Earnest blue eyes blinked at her from a small head of black hair. Brianna forced a smile to grace her lips.

"Nothing. Just remembering things," she said.

"What things?" He asked.

She chuckled, genuinely amused, and began to lead them down the path once again. Strider glanced at them over his shoulder, dark brow raised. She stuck her tongue out at him. His expression turned shocked. With an impish shrug she returned her attention to Frodo.

"There was a time when I wasn't a huntress. I left for about thirty years to pursue something less dangers," she replied and frowned for a moment.

 _Alyan, Allyson, and Judah,_ she thought. _I left for you and now I'm back for you because I can't let you go, can't forget._

"During that time I studied histories of my race and my world in general. I even went around different countries, or realms, to look for ancient artifacts left behind by people who are gone," she explained, "My mentor was there for so much of it. She could tell me things that no history book or rough translation of some stone tablet ever could."

"Is that why you have so many stories?" Pippin asked.

"I wouldn't call them stories," she replied, "they're more like accounts."

They continued on. Pippin and Merry strode on ahead of their little group and faded from sight as their foliage obscured them. Brianna remained silent, lost in memories, while Strider cautiously continued onward. They had not gone far before Pippin and Merry hurried back. Fear plastered their expressions like thick cement. Brianna started and pulled Bill to a halt.

"Trolls!" Pippin hissed as he slid to a stop in front of Strider, "In the clearing ahead! Three of them!"

Brianna blinked.

 _Trolls? I don't smell them_ , she thought.

"We will come and look at them," Strider said and picked up a stick.

Brianna blinked. Whatever was the best weapon to use against a troll she was certain a stick was about as useless as a gnat. She gently tugged Bill forward to resume his slow plod. Frodo remained silent, almost contemplative.

They reached the clearing quickly. Sunlight streamed through the leaves of red oak trees fading from their beautiful deep green into various colors of red, orange, yellow and brown. In the middle of that clearing stood three trolls completely unmoving. Brianna's eyes, like an eagle's, focused on a little bird's nest resting comfortably on the top of one troll's head. She smirked.

Strider, as if needing to prove a point, struck the leg of a troll and broke the stick. Frodo laughed. Brianna giggled and winked at Strider.

"Shall we add 'Slayer of Trolls' to your list of skills?" She asked impishly.

"Well!" Frodo said. "We are forgetting our family history! These must be the very three that were caught by Gandalf, quarreling over the right way to cook thirteen dwarves and one hobbit."

"That certainly seems dire," Brianna remarked, "Tell me all."

"You are forgetting not only your family history, but all you ever knew about trolls," said Strider. "It is broad daylight with a bright sun, and yet you come back trying to scare me with a tale of live trolls waiting for us in this glade! In any case you might have noticed that one of them has an old bird's nest behind his ear. That would be a most unusual ornament for a live troll!"

"Could have been a female troll invulnerable to sunlight?" Brianna asked sweetly.

Strider met her gaze and Brianna was both surprised and pleased to see the corner of his mouth tilting into a half smile. Strider turned his attention to the hobbits. His eyes twinkled with subdued merriment. He ushered them away and the group continued walking. The hobbits' mood lightened and laughed merrily about their encountered. Sam even sang about the encounter with Frodo's infamous Uncle Bilbo.

Brianna allowed the general teasing and merriment to wash over her as Strider led them onward down the track. The hobbits were excited and chattered about Old Uncle Bilbo's great journey with the increasingly interesting wizard, Gandalf, and twelve Rowdy dwarves.

 **After a few miles they came out on the top of a high bank above the Road. At this point the Road had left the Hoarwell far behind in its narrow valley, and now clung close to the feet of the hills, rolling and winding eastward among woods and heather-covered slopes towards the Ford and the Mountains. Not far down the bank Strider pointed out a stone in the grass. On it roughly cut and now much weathered could still be seen dwarf-runes and secret marks. (Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Pg 206 Kindle Edition)**

"That's the marker Bilbo and the dwarves used to remind themselves where they buried the treasure!" Merry said excitedly.

"Is there anything left of Bilbo's portion, Frodo?" Pippin asked.

"No," Frodo said, "he gave it all away. He said he didn't feel like it was his as it was from a trove of robbers."

Brianna found herself nodding, "He seems quite wise, your uncle."

"In some ways. In others I fear Bilbo was a grouchy, suspicious old man," Frodo replied laughing.

She snorted, "I know elves who are like that. One in particular has red hair and likes to hit people with big thick books when they're least expecting it."

Strider took the first steps toward the road. Brianna gently tugged Bill's reigns and initiated a careful descent over pointed rocks and sudden dips in the dirt. The road was quiet in that early evening without a traveler in sight. Nothing stirred other than the evening crickets chirping away their happy calls as the last dregs of fall shifted into winter. A cold wind danced across her skin the moment she and the others made it to the road. Silently they tread onward all the while taking stock of the land surrounding them.

The day waned into twilight. Each of them began to look for a place off the road to sleep for the night. Brianna glanced at a small alcove in the right. She dismissed it quickly. The alcove wasn't obscured enough to avoid the danger of being seen.

She drew to a stop startling Frodo and Bill. The others hadn't noticed until a little ways later when Pippin looked back and noticed a gap between them. Brianna hadn't noticed. She was too busy listening to what she, at first, thought were rocks and now could tell in the silence that it wasn't so. They were hooves.

Slowly she met Strider's gaze and at his nod she pulled Frodo into the alcove. Strider and the three other hobbits followed shortly after. Brianna left Frodo and Bill to stealthily move toward the front of the group. With a breath she closed her eyes a moment and conquered the land around them.

 _I am the elven queen. I have been given dominion over you for a time. You will allow me to use you to protect these people,_ she told it.

The land, whatever force sustained it, acquiesced to the demand. She opened her eyes and prepared the flora to launch a series of should-be-fatal-but-probably-won't-Be strikes. Then the sound of bells met her ears and her brow furrowed.

"The fuck?" She asked to no one in particular in a voice as soft as the wind.

"That doesn't sound like a rider's horse," Frodo remarked.

"So we hope," Sam said.

"But, bells?" Brianna asked incredulously.

Strider was silent, but Brianna noticed a growing smile spreading across his face. She thought about asking what exactly it was he was so happy about, but refrained. Deciding to trust him; however, she released her hold on the land and merely placed the tips of her fingers on a knife hidden in her less-than serviceable boot.

The light faded completely and Brianna was left feeling the wind rustle her bronze hair. Moonlight peaked every once in a while from behind slow moving clouds. Clearer and nearer now the bells jingled, and clippety-clip came the quick trotting feet. Suddenly into view below came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows, running swiftly. In the dusk its headstall flickered and flashed, as if it were studded with gems like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed behind him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed.

The rider halted and looked up at them. Clear blue eyes, much lighter than Strider's, stared up at them.

Brianna didn't completely relax, but she did take her fingers off the hilt of her knife. Her tension completely faded when Strider leapt out of the alcove and strode down to the road. The rider dismounted and ran to meet him.

"Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!" The rider called.

Brianna blinked. She'd never heard that tongue of elvish before. A sense of knowing was there; however, and she could extract some meaning from the strange words.

 _Like when I heard German for the first time and could pinpoint a relationship with English,_ she thought.

The elf spoke urgently to Strider in that same tongue. She sighed and moved to grab Bill's reigns.

"Seems like we have nothing to worry about from him," she said.

Frodo stared at her a whispered, "You both glow."

She started, "What now?"

"You and that elf glow this bright light, though yours seems to flicker like a flame," he informed her.

Brianna opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. Glowing? Sure her skin reflected moonlight at certain angles but she never thought she actually glowed.

Strider beckoned them to come out at that moment and Brianna shook the incident from her thoughts, "Come forth! This is Lord Glorfindel who dwells in the House of Rivendell!"

She gently urged Bill out of the alcove behind Sam, Pippin and Merry and slipped into view. The elf's eyes widened and gabbled something at her in elvish. Brianna shook her head.

"It's best to speak to me in Common Tongue. I am not familiar with the elvish of this world," she replied.

She hadn't thought it possible for a person to look comically surprised, but this elf managed it. He stepped to her swiftly and peered down at her from his great height.

It was her turn to gape. How tall was he?

"Another world," he breathed, "Extraordinary! Lord Elrond saw true!"

"What?" She asked appalled.

He didn't answer but turned to Frodo just as quickly and said, "Hail, and well met at last! I was sent from Rivendell to look for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the road."

"Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell?" cried Frodo joyfully.

" **No. He had not when I departed; but that was nine days ago,' answered Glorfindel. 'Elrond received news that troubled him. Some of my kindred, journeying in your land beyond the Baranduin, learned that things were amiss, and sent messages as swiftly as they could. They said that the Nine were abroad, and that you were astray bearing a great burden without guidance, for Gandalf had not returned. There are few even in Rivendell that can ride openly against the Nine; but such as there were, Elrond sent out north, west, and south. It was thought that you might turn far aside to avoid pursuit, and become lost in the Wilderness. It was my lot to take the Road, and I came to the Bridge of Mitheithel, and left a token there, nigh on seven days ago. Three of the servants of Sauron were upon the Bridge, but they withdrew and I pursued them westward. I came also upon two others, but they turned away southward. Since then I have searched for your trail. Two days ago I found it, and followed it over the Bridge; and today I marked where you descended from the hills again. But come! There is no time for further news. Since you are here we must risk the peril of the Road and go. There are five behind us, and when they find your trail upon the Road they will ride after us like the wind. And they are not all. Where the other four may be, I do not know. I fear that we may find the Ford is already held against us."**

"Only the wraiths?" Brianna asked sharply.

Lord Glorfindel frowned, "I am not sure. A shadow has followed me since I left the bridge, but I have yet to meet with it."

She frowned, "It wasn't only the wraiths who assaulted us. Dark beings from my world have crossed over along with me and maybe even before my arrival."

The elf lord began to pace to and fro with a hand on his chin, "This is concerning. Lord Elrond felt a shift in the world, but he couldn't divine what it was. I felt something strange, a darkness of a sort that was foreign to me, but I hadn't thought…"

Brianna's attention shifted to Frodo who slumped in his seat. She moved to him and touched his shoulder. The hobbit smiled a bit though a shadow of disappointment lurked behind.

 _He's exhausted_ , she thought.

"My master is ill," Sam said, "He can't go on riding in the night."

Brianna nodded, "I agree. But if the enemy's moving then we probably should go. I can carry Frodo."

Glorfindel stood beside her and helped lower Frodo to the ground. There he knelt and inspected him while Strider described the attack on Weathertop. Brianna didn't interject she was busy watching the elf inspect Frodo's wound and the knife incision she had made to act as an infusion drip. Strider handed him the knife hilt and Glorfindel took it only to shudder. Brianna didn't blame him. The thing felt sticky like it filled the air around it with tar.

"There are evils marks on this blade, though you may not be able to see them," Glorfindel remarked.

Brianna paid him no mind. She'd seen the blade enough to know what sort of dark artifact it was and knowing that there was something written on the damn thing wasn't going to help her with Frodo's wound. She watched the elf hand back the blade and moved his attention to Frodo.

"Keep the blade," he said, "Though there is little I can do for him. The wound is beyond my skill. Lord Elrond will be able to do more."

She didn't know what he did but focus seemed to return to Frodo's gaze and he was able to move his arm and shoulder a little bit. Glorfindel helped him sit and turned to the party.

"This is all I can do, but the enemy lurks along our path. We can't rest for the night. I propose we let Frodo ride my horse in case the enemy finds us before we reach the bridge," he said.

Frodo looked horrified at the thought and Brianna interjected, "I will ride with him. Should my enemies follow him Frodo will be defenseless."

Strider grabbed her arm, "You will be directly in harm's way should you do this."

"That's the point, Ranger," she said softly, "My enemies will follow me; especially, as they have a particular reason to hate me."

Strider didn't argue further, but he did stand back and stare at her through a frustrated tilt of his brow. Brianna grinned and helped Frodo onto Glorfindel's large white horse. She climbed up behind him and took the reigns.

"Thank you, Bri, but what about the others?" He asked.

Brianna gently tapped on the mind of the horse, proved herself a friend and asked it to walk forward. Glorfindel uttered a few awed exclamations in the elvish tongue she couldn't understand.

 _What is their magic like here? Subtle pulling of power? Why does he act like he's never seen an elf before?_ She wondered.

"I suspect you and I will be distraction enough," she replied to Frodo, "even if they were assaulted I think Lord Glorfindel and Strider will prove capable."

The elf lord tread on before them. All were silent as the concern of enemies lurking about lived in the forefront of their minds. Brianna didn't like riding; especially, with a wounded Hobbit in front of her. The need for her with Frodo was clear even if Strider, who walked a few paces before them, didn't much care for the idea. To Brianna it didn't matter what he thought. The gravity of the situation changed when it became apparent that her enemies were in this world.

 _Why are they here? What do they want?_ She wondered.

Such thoughts plagued her as the company plod on. The hobbits were weary. Frodo has long since passed into an uneasy slumber. Even Strider's shoulders slumped forward and he briefly rubbed his eyes every now and then. For Brianna's part her mind was too charged to sleep. Too many conundrums befuddled her for weariness to claim her mind. There was little doubt in her that at the moment of arrival she would be completely spent.

Lord Glorfindel finally called halt and they rushed into a place off the road covered thickly in heather. Brianna helped make sure Frodo was comfortable and asleep before she turned to leave.

"You could sleep a moment," the elf lord suggested softly so as to keep from waking Strider Who was a light sleeper.

Brianna smiled wryly, "No, I can't. This… this plot of the enemy troubles me as I can't think of exactly what it is."

He looked thoughtful, but nodded all the same, "I will rouse them in five hours time. Proceed with caution. The enemy is close."

She smiled gravely, "That's why I'm going. Maybe I'll deal with them sooner rather than later?"

"You look for a fight," he noted.

She shrugged, "I'm a Huntress, elf lord. I will stalk my prey and I will kill it just as efficiently."

With that she moved into the night and stayed just above the road searching for enemies.

* * *

Strider woke after two hours to find Glorfindel watching the night. His expression was grim in the dim light, but the night seemed not to touch him. Gingerly the ranger rose and moved to sit beside his friend. They sat silently for a time and gazed into the darkness.

"Brianna is gone," Strider said after a while.

"She seems to be hunting our enemies," Glorfindel replied.

This didn't surprise him. Brianna had done so ever since Weathertop. It worried him for a reason Strider couldn't quite understand. This elleth seemed reckless to a fault. Her need to exact a certain amount of ferocity to her enemies allowed very little need to hold back her power however considerable it was.

"She is a powerful wielder of the magic of the Maiar. I liken her power to what I know Mithrandir can do should the need arise, yet she uses it more," Strider explained.

"I know. I felt her subdue the land before I rounded the bend in the road. Had I not placed bells on Asfaloth she would have likely killed me without a thought. You may think she's rash, but if her enemies are here she might feel that she needs to be. Darker forces are at work in Arda than any we have seen. Lord Elrond has seen this though he knows not of what to make of it. He and I felt her come through. I know it was her now that I've met her," Glorfindel said.

Strider didn't reply but sat silently to think about the implications of this. The great elf lords felt her enter Arda. The land accepted her presence, or she made it.

"No elf here has her power," Strider remarked.

"No, we do not and I suspect we will be thankful for that in the coming days," Glorfindel replied.

Strider took that for the rebuke that it was and stared silently at a short tree. He closed his eyes. It had been a long time since she had won his trust in regards to her reliability as an ally. The expanse of her power; however, was another matter. He didn't trust such wild magic. It certainly seemed she had control of it, but if she didn't then what? They knew little of it.

Brianna materialized before him after an hour. Strider didn't start as he once did. She was an elf and she moved as one would when returning from a hunt. Her eyes looked concerned and as she drew closer Strider beheld blood on her clothes. He straightened and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

She hastily waved him down and sat beside him. Glorfindel moved from them though Strider couldn't fathom as to why. He studied her and noticed her body was rigid with tension. Despite this she looked beautiful in the way her skin glowed with the moonlight. Her hair was loose, no longer tied in that serviceable braid, and hung around her matted and dirty yet still glinted bronze as the moonlight bathed her for only a moment.

"Erebus sent a vampire and twenty naga after us. I killed them. No sign of the riders or Erebus himself, so they clearly don't know where we are," she said.

Strider marveled at how matter-of-fact she was about killing dark creatures. It was strange to hear from an elf maiden. Few in Arda actively fought and many remained behind to guard their homes. It was known that an elleth, including the maidens, had power enough to through back the forces of the enemy if they so chose. It was why they stayed behind and fought anything that invaded. This seemed to not be so from wherever it was Brianna hailed from.

"Some comfort Indeed," he agreed.

Glorfindel rose and began to raise the hobbits from their slumber. Brianna sighed and stood. Strider wondered how tired she was. In the days she traveled with him when had she the chance to mourn the loss of her World alone?

They traveled into the day. The sun climbed high. Brianna rode with Frodo in silence her head bowed and eyes partially closed. Listening as Glorfindel likely was. Strider would have pressed on once night came, but the hobbits couldn't from the way they continued to stumble about as darkness blanketed the sky. Glorfindel was distressed by the notion, but little could be done when Frodo declared his arm and shoulder worse.

Brianna stayed with them this time and remained awake throughout the night ready for the moment when their enemies converged upon them. Strider woke in rounds as he, himself, couldn't sleep and stayed next to her and Frodo. Neither said a word only guarded the Hobbit together.

* * *

Brianna felt the change in the air when she roused Frodo from his slumber. She could hear the signs of horses following them as well as the crash of feet, clawed and dull and heavy, scurrying through the brush and scraping across the expanse of the road.

Our peril will be greatest just ere we reach the river," said Glorfindel; "for my heart warns me that the pursuit is now swift behind us, and other danger may be waiting by the Ford."

The road steadily tilted downward as they approached the river at the valley below. They continued until mid afternoon when they came upon a dark copse of trees. As they entered within she heard the tell tale signs of hooves plodding in a canter behind them. She tensed. Frodo felt her unease and looked at her.

"They follow us," he breathed.

"Yes," she whispered.

Ahead, Glorfindel turned. Brianna urged the horse into a brusque trot and nodded to him.

"They're hear!" She snapped.

"Fly!" Glorfindel cried to the stunned hobbits.

They broke through the trees and hastened through the clearing when the noise of galloping resounded behind them. Brianna wheeled the horse around and raised her arm, hand clenched into a tight fist. The pine branches attacked the two Wraiths that emerged with a ferocious hatred she'd allowed the land to express. Behind rode Erebus who snarled at her, red eyes glinting in undisguised rage.

"You want him?" She cried, "Come and take him, then!"

She whirled the horse around and bade him to ride like the wind. He seemed to get the message because suddenly the beast sprang into a hard gallop and took them through the upcoming trees like an arrow. Brianna willed the trees to move with no small an effort. Frodo was groaning as the pain in his shoulder cut through his nerves like ice and her monitoring of his welfare distracted her from the ride. But Glorfindel's steed did not slow nor did he neglect to avoid the thickest of landscape Brianna forgot to move. Together they worked in tandem with one goal in mind: get to Imladris.

The river looked before them and with a sweep of her slim arm the river parted for them. As they road across the dry riverbed Brianna heard snarling as animalistic shape shifters followed close behind. Just as the horse sprung onto the the river bank Brianna released the water and washed them away. The Riders and Erebus were close behind and as they reached the high bank began to cross the rushing water. Brianna pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted.

"Bri!" Frodo cried weakly.

She paid him no mind, but kept her attention fixed upon the Riders and Erebus. The Knight Elf was grinning at her the cruel grin of one who knew they just won the race.

"Go back! Go back to Mordor and follow me no more!" Cried Frodo drawing his sword.

The Rider in the lead hissed and held out a dark hand. Frodo let out a croak, but the horse did not let the Hobbit fall. Brianna formed a flaming whip in her hand and lashed out at the rider who screamed. She hit him again.

"Leave this place in the Name of the Triune! Leave now before I make your suffering great!" She yelled.

Erebus road into the river and said, "There is nothing more you can do, Huntress. Leave the Hobbit to us and I will spare you."

"Bullshit!" She snarled and directed the whip at him.

Erebus held out his hand to block the fire, but hadn't anticipated her to change direction at the last moment. His horse's scream was heartbreaking, but it had to be done. It's leg burned and the horse reared and threw the knight elf out of his saddle and into the water. He rose, sputtering, and coughing. She smiled.

"I will make your suffering great!" He said, "I will cause you such pain that you will beg me to take your miserable life!"

She distinguished her flame and drew out her fighting knives. Brianna fell into a guard stance and laughed. It felt good to be able to actually fight something.

"You wouldn't be the first You fucking corpse!" She taunted.

As one Erebus and the Riders advanced. She readied herself and sought to draw in the water. Only, someone else seemed to have done so already, and Brianna almost dropped her stance in astonishment as the river's current echoed a faint roar. Without actually thinking about it she scrambled back up the bank and stood next to Frodo and the horse to watch in growing awe as a Great Wall of water rushed towards Erebus and the Riders.

Brianna, at that moment, felt that the Riders were probably smarter than Erebus. The leader turned and charged back to the other side of the River. One Rider made it over the bank only to come face to face with a raging Glorfindel who knocked it off the black horse he was riding and push it around like a sack of potatoes. Erebus tried some sort of dark shield – she wasn't sure what exactly he was trying to do – but to no avail. At the last second the water morphed into the image of charging stallions and crashed into their enemies.

She grinned. That was probably the most beautiful thing she ever had the pleasure of seeing. Brianna turned to make a smart remark about their unforeseen triumph to Frodo when she saw him sag to the side. She reached up and grabbed his right arm and tugged him into her and off the great horse. He was light and fading fast.

The sound of light footfalls startled her and she held up the one hand that still held a knife. Around the bend walked two men. She squinted. One was an elf and the other was an old man.

"Who are you?" She asked harshly.

The elf held up his hands and replied, "Peace Be with you, Lady, I am Lord Elrond and have been expecting Frodo's arrival. This is Gandalf, friend of the hobbits. Let me see him."

She watched him for a moment, untrusting, but decided to relieve the burden of the sick Hobbit from her shoulders to his. Lord Elrond took Frodo gently in his arms and laid him upon the ground. There he inspected his wound and began to whisper and work magicks she knew little about. A faint song filled the air and Brianna blinked. Was song the median between the world and the natural powers that shaped it?

 _How strange,_ she thought.

"You are Gandalf" she asked the old man cloaked in grey with a fuzzy grey beard.

He smiled fondly at her, "Yes, and you are the elf maiden who calls to the elements and tells them what she wishes them to do whether they want it or not."

"Arguing with trees takes too long in a crisis," she replied primly.

He laughed, "All too true."

Brianna heard splashing and saw Glorfindel, Strider, and the hobbits attempt to cross. She held up her hand and cleared a path for them that closed behind them as they crossed the Ford. Strider met her first. Quickly he grabbed her hands and chin to inspect each cut and scrape she received. Brianna pulled a face.

"I'm not hurt, Strider!" She said.

He smiled, "So I see, but the Riders and Erebus followed close behind you and cast dark curses in your direction. I wanted to be sure nothing hit you."

She blinked. Erebus tried to curse her? It wouldn't have been the first time and she opened her mouth to say just that, but thought better of it. Something about the degree of intensity laid bare in his earnest blue eyes told her it wouldn't be appropriate. In fact it might have alarmed him.

"Thank you, Strider," she said instead.

"Aragorn. We are in Lord Elrond's lands. You may call me Aragorn," he said.

Her heart jumped and dread filled her belly. Did he expect her to reciprocate? Aragorn looked at her a moment longer before turning away to look at Frodo.

"How is he, Lord Elrond?" Aragorn asked.

"He is not fine, but I have reached him in time to be effective," the elf said breaking his song.

A few bars more and Lord Elrond allowed the song to trail off into the growing evening. He lifted Frodo into his arms again and swiftly launched himself onto Glorfindel's horse.

"I will ride Asfaloth to Imladris and tend to him. Glorfindel, if you will guide the rest of them in safety to my house?"

Glorfindel inclined his head, "Willingly, Elrond."

With a nod to them all Lord Elrond launched into a canter and rode away. Brianna watched him go before allowing a shiver to run up the length of her spine. Such magic disturbed her. It wasn't evil, but it went against her nature. There was too much precision and control. While she, indeed, had her own version of it she could insert her will more readily when the need arose. This was clearly different.

 _I don't like the idea of staying in a world where nature has a mind of its own_ , she thought.

"Gandalf! Merry exclaimed, "you're here!"

The wizard grunted, "Indeed! And not a moment too soon, so it seems!"

Brianna cast her eyes to the sky. The wizard was enough like Maf to make her feel comfortable around him at least.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Dunadain**

 **Author's Note:** _So, just as a bit of a warning I do get into some vaguely explicit sexual content in this chapter. No it's not between our two protagonists, but it is certainly in there. You'll understand why when you read it. Don't be overly offended. I'm not good at sexual content in general and that scene was really out of my comfortzone for reasons you will discover when you read it._

 _There are some Briagorn moments in here and are as heavy with romantic insinuation as I've been since penning this Rewrite._

 _Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy!_

* * *

She waited with the rest of them. Aragorn has wandered off to take care of something with Glorfindel. Brianna wasn't sure. She'd dozed off with Sam, Merry and Pippin snuggled against her all collectively worried for their friend. Dozing was the best she could do at this moment. If she tried to sleep in earnest dreams of everyone she failed to protect and tried to protect her loomed from the dark recesses of her mind. Now was not the time to remember them covered in deep gashes oozing blood with rattling shallow breaths alerting Thanatos of another souls to prepare for death. Instead she cat napped and stayed awake while the others took turns resting.

Once each of them were allowed into the healing rooms on the second night Lord Elrond made them take shifts so as not to overcrowd him. This was on the second night when he emerged from the room and nodded to them all.

"One at a time, each of you, I recommend retiring to a room while you await shifts. I will send for my daughter to accommodate your needs, Miss Davis," he said and left.

Minutes later, as if the girl had been waiting around the corner, Lord Elrond's daughter, Lady Arwen, made her presence known. Brianna was struck dumb. For many years she'd considered Laurealasse, a long dead ancestor of hers, to be the most beautiful person she'd ever met. Lady Arwen put the queen to shame. She was tall and slim, features delicately fashioned and sparking blue eyes glittering like pale blue stars. Her skin was as pale as moonlight and hair black like glittering obsidian.

The lady curled her red stained lips into a smile and said, "Welcome to my father's house, Miss Brianna Davis. It pleases me to meet a new elven face. Many years have passed since children were born in Imladris and my mother's homeland. I will guide you to your room and meet you on the morrow to take you to the dining hall to break our fast."

Brianna smiled and said, "Lead the way. I'm certainly ready to sleep for a while."

It was true. She needed to place herself into a deep, dreamless sleep for eight hours and likely wouldn't be able to do that easily. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her standing.

"Of course. Before that, I assume you would like to utilize the bathing chamber. I shall instruct you in its use," Arwen said kindly.

Brianna smiled gratefully. She'd been itching for a nice, long soak in a bubble filled bath, or something as close to it as she could get. Arwen turned and began the relatively short trek to the chambers Lord Elrond had set aside for her. The halls were open to the elements as much as possible. Sometimes the covering above faded into a quaint path through a garden peppered with many different types of flowers. The guest room set aside for her was located near a small pond created by a slim waterfall trickling down from the high hills that surrounded them.

Her room was open to the air and Brianna was excited to see a smaller room through a door on the right that looked like a bathroom. Arwen led her into that room and lit a few candles to better illuminate the enclosed space. Underneath Brianna felt the rushing heat of whatever underground spring nestled in the rocks below. The elf maiden pulled a lever and water pooled at the bottom of the tub.

"I have set wash rags, bottles of scented oil and a chemise in here for you to utilize at your leisure. I've also placed a few dresses for you in the wardrobe for you to wear tomorrow. I suspect they will be a little long for you, but I will be in with a needle and thread to help you modify them in the morning," her hostess said.

Brianna nodded and said, "Thank you, Lady Arwen. I'll be happy to leave the rags I'm wearing behind. They were never meant to be worn on long trips through the wildness."

"I hear from my father that you appeared in the middle of said wilderness," Arwen replied.

"Yes, and squished Mr. Strider in the process."

Arwen laughed, producing a sound kin to small bells twinkling at the gust of a small breeze. Brianna almost wished her laugh could sound like that. This lady was quite beautiful and reminded her very easily how Fae-like Brianna sometimes appeared. Such tended to be the fate of elves who mixed with humans.

"I suppose he didn't appreciate it," Arwen replied after her laughter faded from her lips, "if you wish I can show you our gardens on mid morning?"

"That would be delightful, Lady Arwen."

"You may refer to me as Arwen. Titles are unnecessary while you are a guest in my father's house."

Brianna smiled, "Arwen, then."

The lady left and Brianna stopped the flow of water and tore off her disgusting clothes. Naked she walked to where five bottles of scented oil were clustered together on a shelf attached to a porcelain wall and picked one up. Carefully Brianna uncorked the cap and lifted the bottle to her nose. The sweet smell of roses filled her senses as she breathed in. As it was the strongest smell she could think of that would wash away the memory of that swamp they traveled through Brianna walked back over to the bath and began to pour the pinked liquid into it. Once she was satisfied of that Brianna lowered herself into the near scalding water and relaxed.

It was heaven. It also felt like ages since she bathed in earnest and the color of the water changed from translucent pink to grey and brown very quickly. Instead of completely relaxing Brianna had to drain and fill the bathing pool several times before she could completely submerge herself and wash out the grime in her hair.

When she had scrubbed her scalp raw and her skin red Brianna emptied the pool for a final time and dried herself off with a wave of her hand. There was little need to get the towels wet. She slipped the chemise over her head and adjusted it accordingly around her hips. Her hips clung to the silk fabric tightly, though she wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

Carefully she moved into the bedroom and felt the cool night air prick her skin. She crossed her arms and stepped to the open window with the view of the water fall. Human eyes would have a difficult time seeing the gradually cascading waterfall tumbling down the cliff. As an elf Brianna could perfectly see the way it and the moonlight that illuminated it cast an ethereal glow about the landscape.

 _If I was an was an artist I would paint this place,_ she thought longingly.

At that Brianna turned away from the scene before her and retired to the comfortable but unfamiliar bed. She didn't dream.

* * *

Aragorn paced the halls of his childhood home and considered Frodo's predicament. Lord Elrond had said he was mending, had even gone so far as to shew the audience outside the healing halls away, but the gravity of the would still unnerved him. Every instance of evil had converged upon them and then stormed after Frodo. What made it particularly worse was the knowledge that one of that fell party wasn't just after the ring. The one called Erebus had his eyes on Brianna and in them had been a triumphant hunger which shook him to the core.

How safe were they? Rivendell only offered so much protection and Glorfindel, Elrohir and Elladan already spoke of scouting the outskirts of Elrond's lands in a day or two. Aragorn already promised to go with them.

Light footsteps shook him from his thoughts and he beheld the Lady Arwen as she rounded the bend away from the guest halls. She inclined her head to him and offered a soft, guarded smile.

"Good evening Estel. Do I find you well?" She asked.

"As well as can be expected. I am concerned for Frodo," Aragorn replied after a minute.

He remembered a time when they could speak together in comfort. When she looked on him in unguarded adoration. The day it had changed was the day his heart broke, but who could deny an elf of what they knew for certain? This meeting, he did notice, carried less a sting than the last. He wondered why, but cast the thought aside soon after. It was best not to dwell on such things.

"My father and Mithrandir search for the fragment of the blade the wizard suspects is still there. I heard his explaining such to Miss Brianna Davis in great detail. She certainly asks detailed questions and expects equally detailed answers," Arwen said.

Almost unbidden Aragorn smiled, "Yes, she does that."

Her blue eyes, almost as perceptive as her father's, fixed him with a suspicious squint. Aragorn didn't allow his smile to fall. The sight of Brianna asking Lord Elrond questions was too good a memory to pass up. Upon their first meeting she bordered on impertinent! Gandalf thought her charming while Lord Elrond merely answered them as best he could in a continuous state of bewilderment.

"You seem to be fond of her," Arwen remarked.

Glorfindel made the same observation, Aragorn thought.

"As a traveling companion she is an interesting person to listen to and a very good ally in battle. I've never felt as if Mithrandir were near me so until she came," he said instead.

She watched him a moment longer before merely inclining her head. Aragorn didn't know what to make of it. There was a curiousness about Arwen this night that seemed almost defensive. He couldn't understand it.

"I will bid you good night, Estel, and pray that you sleep well. Do not allow your heart to be troubled by the events of the past nor by the fear for those to come," she said and walked away.

Aragorn didn't stare after her. He simply continued his journey, but took a detour back to his sleeping quarters to finally fall into a peaceful slumber. It had been a few years since his last and much welcome when it came.

* * *

Daenith watched Lord Hades with a detached interest that wasn't shared by her coven sisters. Hades and Hecate were currently partaking in ritualistic sexual intercourse to plant his seed within her belly. It was something Hecate was known for among many in their circle. She would take the seed of a male, quicken it within, and chant and form the fleshly body into whatever she wanted it to become and then make alterations at the moment of birth. Sometimes such pregnancies lasted months and sometimes only a few measly hours. Daenith had no taste for the practice in any case. She was an elven siren and her voice could cast the darkest of curses.

Prince Aries stood by Nyx whispering into her ear while the necromancer wove a particularly nasty curse from the ever growing locks of her hair. Daenith was by far more intrigued by the magic of weaving than by the fertility sex Hecate always participated in. She watched as the prince reached his hand to Nyx's breasts to casually play with them as he continued to mutter.

It was quite disgusting to watch the two of them debase themselves in such a manner. Beside her the same discomfort was shown by Princess Persephone the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, niece of Hades and his consort. Daenith changed a glance at the death goddess. Once she had been beautiful, but her time in hell had caused her to wither away into an old women. Hades and Aries experienced much kinder fates, but according to Mab the males had allowed themselves to gain masterful knowledge from the beings who lived there. Persephone had chosen to wallow in her misery and become an old crone.

Queen Mab's disappointment in the Princess was clear and Daenith knew, from a look the queen had given her before departing for Isengard, permission had been granted to dispose of her. She caught a smirk in their direction from Aries and knew who it was Mab had truly backed. A son of one marked for Kingship made a better claim to the throne than one who's father and mother were never so lucky.

 _Hades and Persephone, yet I suspect Hades gave the order for Persephone's downfall. My queen plays an interesting game of thrones,_ she thought.

"What does this do to give me a new body, siren?" A hiss from behind.

Daenith turned to the shadow that was the Dark Lord Sauron and inclined her head, "Hecate will quicken the seed of Hades and enchant the body so no soul but yours may enter once the time comes. It will take seven months for the body to mature and cultivate within. Hades whispers spells to form the body fit for a king such as yourself and Hecate with utilize the ancient powers to mold anything you desire into it."

"Months!" Sauron hissed, "I have great armies to lead. I cannot wait months!"

Daenith approached him and pressed her hand against his misted form. She met solid leathered skin. It was difficult to grasp at first, but she managed to seep her feminine whiles through to him despite the lack of flesh and desire.

"You will wait and become the king you were meant to be," she purred.

The Dark Lord came to them in part in a mist, yet she could still feel his physical presence in their world. It brought a certain headiness to Daenith's physical need that hadn't been there for many years. To be in the presence of such a one who could manifest in one place yet still e the being wreathed in an eye shaped flame was more than impressive. It spoke of a power beyond the lot of Hades and Aries and Mab. The Morrighan had this power as did Cerunnos the Horned God wherever he was.

She smiled and stepped toward him, "These people are weak. These elves are weak. You will rule them all with an iron fist and the snide aristocrats on the other side of the ocean will be forced to concede your might."

This seemed to placate Sauron, but only a little bit. He still had his never ending questions and the way he always seemed to understand the intent of Aries and Hades unnerved her. What did he see in her?

Aries and Nyx approached her. The necromancer's weaving was finished and hung loosely in her hands. Aries was much like Zeus in that he was tall and blond, though his eyes were yellow denoting his dabbling in sorcery.

 _Not dabbling_ , she thought, _The Fallen in Hell taught him to conceal his change._

The prince smirked at Daenith. She steeled herself and stepped away from Sauron. Another aspect of their plan needed to come to fruition. She was particularly vital in executing it.

"You will cast the curse on the elven Queen," he said.

"So I've been told," Daenith said.

 _Why has Mab cast her lot with this disgusting princeling?_ She wondered.

He stepped forward and grabbed her arm. She glared at him for a moment before shuddering and unlacing her dress. It was part of the ritual. If Aries wanted the queen then his seed needed to be inside her while Nyx spelled the woven curse into Daenith's vocal chords. Aries followed suite and then pressed a long kiss against Daenith's startled mouth. She gasped and struggled but to no avail. The spell had worked at the touch of skin upon skin. He pulled away and purred into her ear.

"I needed to know how well this will work for the day I use it on the Queen."

Daenith felt her senses turn in favor to him. Her mind focused on him and wanted him to help her reach the zenith of pleasure. The prince unclothed himself and pointed to the ground.

"On your knees, Siren," he growled.

Daenith's body moved without her consent and she was on the ground ready for him to take her from behind. Nyx knelt in front of her with the weave ready to spell it into her throat at the appropriate moment. For Daenith she cried out in pleasure at the sheathing of Aries's rather large member into her. When Aries grunted as he came Nyx began to whisper the words that caused the weave to thin and enter Daenith's open mouth only to settle around and below her vocal chords. There would be no spell casting for her until the curse was complete. No sound will be able to escape her lips until then. She was to be a slave to the curse and to the needs to Aries until that curse was complete.

"No room for error," Aries said, "I must be sure the queen will be ready for me the moment that curse begins to take effect."

The prince was already donning his pants, shirt and battle gear once more. On the bed beyond Hades removes himself from Hecate's body and approached them. He had long since given himself to necromancy. His body was as white as curdled milk and hair as black as shadow. His eyes; however, spoke of the change the most as they glared at them all from blood red irises.

"The siren has the curse?" He asked.

Aries inclined his head, "Yes Uncle. We are ready. If my great niece is anything like Athena then she will be unattached to any man and completely against forming one."

"And if she proves to be, then what?" Hades asked in a tone that suggested he was rather bored with the idea.

"My seed will work on her, grow in her mind, and make her irresistible to me. Should she fight it the curse will place her into a dark sleep that only I can wake her from," Aries explained.

"Unless she finds her mate, my lord," Nyx said softly, "only the power of a mate may break such a curse."

Daenith crossed her arms and frowned. It wouldn't have been apparent that she was contemplating the situation laid before her to them as she couldn't make any noise. Elves hadn't searched for their mates in a long time. Most didn't have a particular one and the ones that did, i.e. the royal family, never truly found their mate before they died. It was highly unlikely that the elven queen would find hers.

Aries, clearly of the same opinion, snorted and said, "The elves have not discovered mating for a long time. They have lost sight of that "gift" from their god a long time ago."

"Be that as it may," Sauron hissed, "You should not be overconfident in that eventuality. I will instruct my agent, Saruman, to inform Erebus finding the mate of the elven queen is essential. For all we know that male could be in Arda."

Daenith raised a brow, but couldn't voice any of her concerns. After the handling she faced under Aries hand she wasn't particularly inclined to support anything the prince said. The underlying insinuation was there. What did Sauron know that they didn't. Hades seemed to be of the same mind because he cast Sauron a suspicious look, but seemed to refrain from pursuing the thought any further. Daenith felt that to be wise. If they began worrying about that technicality now then they would never complete the task before them. The elven queen would never be theirs and Hecate's magic would falter. They needed the queen to complete the ritual or Sauron's new body would quickly decay.

Hecate stirred on her bed of furs. Daenith hadn't realized the Sorceress fell asleep during their discussion. Slowly she rose to a sitting position and placed a hand on her enlarged belly. She began to whisper more spells and writhe on her bedding. Hades nodded to Nyx.

"I'll leave you to the maintenance. Make hands will only sour the deed and we must have the Dark Lord involved soon," he said.

Nyx inclined her head and moved to help Hecate by sticking two fingers into her womanhood. She spoke a spell of her own when Hecate writhed.

"Aries will renew his seed into the spell you carry in a few hours. I suggest you rest. We must not let a soul touch you until the deed is done and the queen is under our control," Hades said.

Daenith inclined her head before turning and leaving the room. She truly missed the days when she was the one dominating the minds of males and bearing fruit by them. Once she held kingdoms in her power. Now she was demoted into serving this bastard.

On Aries in particular, she decided, there would be revenge.

* * *

Brianna woke to a soft knock at her door. She sat up and blearily stared around the room she had been given. For a brief moment she imagined herself at OLYMPUS. To wake and discover it to not be the case left a dull pang in her heart that she struggled to ignore. Brooding about being whisked away from home was not going to help her return. She needed a clear head and a cool mind. She needed to steel herself for the unpleasant eventuality of hunting down Erebus and whoever else followed him.

With a deep breath she slid out from under the covers and padded across the frosted marble floor and opened the door. As promised the night before Arwen stood before her with a basket loaded with sewing supplies. Brianna smiled though it was a little forced. She hated sewing and was never particularly good at it.

"Good morning, Arwen," she said.

The lady smiled, "Good morning Brianna. Have I wakened you?"

"A bit," Brianna admitted.

Arwen released a light laugh and Brianna let her in. The lady gracefully walked into the room and pulled a chair from what Brianna noticed to be a desk on the other side of the room.

 _I must have been incredibly single minded last night not to notice that_ , she thought.

"Which dresses would you like to take in? I can obtain your measurements and order a few items of clothing for you while we do this," Arwen offered.

Brianna approached the finely carved mahogany armoire and opened the delicate doors. The dresses were of the same quality of silk and velvet, but less shear and gathered two layers at the skirt and bust. She noticed they didn't have lacings up the back but were situated on the sides. With a firmness of someone who hated wearing dresses in general Brianna laced the sides as quickly as she could.

Being the small person that she was the dress sagged in all the wrong places and revealed too much of her breasts to be socially acceptable. Arwen frowned and messed around with the fabric at key portions of Brianna's shoulders, bust and waist. Her lips pressed together in concentration and her brows furrowed.

"I misjudged how small you are," she muttered and moved to the armoire again.

After a minute or two while Brianna struggled out of the dress Arwen removed a pale green dress. The waist was slim, but the hips and buttox had more of a flare. Neither were sure about the bust area. Brianna had full breasts but a slim rib cage.

"It might be easier to take in the bust if the rest of the dress fits you relatively well," Arwen said.

Brianna wordlessly pulled the dress over her head. It fit her shoulders and was only a little loose around her bust and chest. The hem of the dress pooled a little bit at the floor. Arwen studied the dress for a second and then pulled at the fabric to better judge where to take in the dress.

After that she had Brianna take off the dress and sit half naked on the bed while Arwen took a needle, thread and scissors to the dress and carefully worked at the hem and edging. Several time she had Brianna put the dress back on to study her work and make appropriate adjustments.

It was mid morning when the dress was finished and Brianna stood in front of a full body mirror in awe at Arwen's handiwork. Despite disliking dresses Brianna actually felt beautiful. The pale green helped along with the silver patterns along the lining of the chest, shoulders.

Tentatively Brianna reached up and began to braid the side strands of her hair into a crown around her head. Arwen handed her a chord to tie the strands together. The taller elf smiled.

"You look like a princess," Arwen remarked.

She did at that. The green of the dress flowed down and about her like water. It billowed at the correct place past the tops of her hips and fell in a small flare to the floor. Her feet were unadorned, but that was due to there being no shoes in Imladris that would fit her. The sleeves were wide and long and trailed to the dress' hem like green and silver vines. The neckline scooped from the top of one shoulder to the next and fell deliberately along the beginnings of her rising bosom.

 _I know, but I'm not a princess_ , Brianna thought morosely as she gazed at herself in the mirror, _I'm a queen._

She had never worn beautiful light dresses and danced about in the gardens and glades. She never sang for the joy of it and danced with the elements she would one day use for battle and peace. She fought every second of her life and killed as swiftly as an arrow. She studied books of poetry and lore and excavated sites of ages gone by with the special knowledge of history that only elves could have. She watched when people sacrificed herself for her. She raged and grieved and burned and drowned and killed and executed people for treason. Always she was the warrior queen who purged the darkness and was never allowed to enjoy the light.

Not once in one hundred and sixty-nine years of living, had Brianna the chance to even look like a princess.

"Well," she said through a break in her voice, "there's a first time for everything."

Arm in arm she allowed Arwen to lead her to the dining hall. She was lost in the effort to focus on the here and now, do Brianna didn't see the calculating look the elf lady sent her.

* * *

Aragorn sat with Glorfindel, Elrohir and Elladan eating a late breakfast and discussing where in Lord Elrond's lands they planned to scout. They were like minded in the opinion that the enemy wasn't going to invade the lands directly. Elrohir ventured the suggestion that they ask Miss Davis what manner of creatures likely followed Erebus from her world into theirs. For a reason Aragorn wasn't sure he wanted to dissect as of yet he grudgingly agreed to the idea. Involving her felt wrong and every once of his being wished for her to remain in Imladris to recover, rest and mourn her departure from her home.

Glorfindel stood suddenly and cheerfully said, "Lady Arwen and Miss Brianna! It's a pleasure to be graced with your company once again!"

Aragorn turned and stared. Not at Arwen who looked as graceful and beautiful as she always did, but at Brianna. She looked small, thin, and delicate – a vision which was quite deceptive after watching her darkly clad person inflict bodily harm on that Knight Elf, Erebus – with her hair wrapped around her head like the crown of a princess. He wasn't certain as to where the dress came from, but he noticed the tell-tale signs of them needing to take it in.

By the way her brows rose high and her eyes dart about his person from head to toe he realized something about him evoked the same stunned gape from her. Then he remembered when he saw her narrow her eyes and lean forward a bit. Her nostrils flared and he swallowed a laugh. It was the first time she'd seen him with his beard trimmed and body bathed and wearing clean, crisp, clothes.

"You… bathed," she said quite inappropriately.

Elrohir, typically grim, barked a laugh. Arwen looked a bit scandalized. Elladan raised a dark brow. Glorfindel coughed.

"One tends to do that when in safety and not in creeks open to all manner of evils that could ambush them," he replied dryly.

She sniffed, "I am used to a certain high level of hygiene, Sir Ranger, that you clearly aren't."

 _She looks and sounds like a princess,_ he observed, _its quite endearing._

He smiled, "So you say, Brianna."

"Miss Davis," Glorfindel interjected, "I wonder if we may utilize your knowledge of dark creatures from your world? We are about to scout the area and would like to know what to look for."

Brianna looked away from Aragorn to reply, "Of course."

She took her seat next to Aragorn. Arwen inclined her head.

"I will take my leave then. We shall meet this afternoon in the gardens, Brianna?" She asked.

Brianna smiled, "Of course!"

Arwen left for her father's table and Brianna turned her attention on them. Aragorn took in the way her hair fell past her shoulders in long waves full and flowing after receiving a good cleansing treatment. The urge to reach out and touch it overwhelmed him and he moved his right hand under the table to help resist such a temptation.

"Erebus tends to use a few lesser sorcerers and necromancers, but the primary evil you will have to worry about from him are hellhounds. They're typically large black shapes that howl like wolves and rip any living flesh to pieces," she explained in a bored tone.

Elladan leaned forward interest written clearly on his face, "How do you kill them?"

Brianna smiled and reached for some eggs and bacon. Aragorn raised a brow. He didn't know elves from earth ate meat that wasn't chicken and fish.

"Fire works, but barring that certain tunes will help. He might use them for scouting, but I suspect the ones closest to the border between the wilds and Lord Elrond's lands will be sorcerers trying to figure out how to break past his defenses," she explained, "Try not to get hit with anything they throw at you. I'm not good at breaking curses."

She sat and ate for a bit while the elves and Aragorn digested that bit of information. Sorcerers who could use black magic to cast any number of fell curse upon any who come upon them. How did one fight that without magic readily available to them. He glanced at Glorfindel the only one of their group who likely had enough power to overwhelm such odds. Briefly he reconsidered the idea of inviting her to come with them, but thought better of it when she closed her eyes at a single bite of bacon.

Glorfindel stood, "I must make my report to Lord Elrond in regards to this news. We may need to take extra precautions."

He left and Elrohir and Elladan departed soon after leaving Aragorn with Brianna who looked at him for a moment with her teal eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't seen before. A tender smile graced her lips and he felt completely out of his depth. In the wild Brianna had been a force of nature. In a house of peace like Imladris she was serene, calm and unguarded.

"Have you rested well?" He asked.

"Yes, you?"

"This is my home. I always find peace and rest here," he replied.

She cocked her head to the left all the while peering at him from underneath long eyelashes. Aragorn swallowed. Was she purposely flirting with him or did she always act so endearing in everything she did? He would have noticed if she had. At the time Aragorn had been concerned with keeping them alive. Here in his own home all fears and inhibitions were lifted and he was free to notice things he otherwise wouldn't have.

"You live here when you're not traversing the wild looking for trouble?" She asked.

There was playfulness to her tone and expression. Aragorn knew she hadn't done that on the road. She also seemed genuinely curious and, after a moment of consideration decided to oblige in answering her question.

"My mother took me to live here after my father died as was the tradition of my family. My father was the Ranger Chieftain of the Dunedain and frequently left on dangerous expeditions. I was taken here to be hidden from the agents of Sauron," she looked alarmed at this and he added, "my family has a long history of hostility with the Dark Lord. It is why my father was killed. My mother lived out her days in Imladris and I left after I reached manhood to follow in my father's footsteps."

"I'm sorry," she said earnestly, "for the loss of your father."

"I was young when he died and it was customary for members of my family to be fostered in Imladris. Only she came where I went as well," he said.

There was a certain, wistful look in her eyes that told Aragorn they wandered into a subject that brought her pain. She looked away from him and down to her mostly empty plate and clasped her hands demurely on the table. He watched her both admiring her profile and resisting the urge to gather her into his arms. She wouldn't appreciate the gesture if he had, but the desire remained.

"You are lucky than most. So many people don't remember the parents who died and you had the blessing of knowing your mother. And Lord Elrond doesn't strike me as a terrible father figure," she said and smiled still not looking at him.

Aragorn reached out, making a decision, and rested his hand on hers. His hand was much larger and dwarfed both folded hand on the table. She looked at him, startled, and for a moment he thought he'd forgotten what he was going to say.

"I was instructed in survival, arts, music and history. Lord Elrond was a blessing indeed. I may miss the father I barely knew, but I gained much despite his loss. Do not worry for me. I have made peace," he whispered softly.

Her gaze softened and Aragorn truly was lost. How had he missed this on their journey? He observed she was beautiful, but this was another matter entirely. He swallowed and pulled away aware of her effect on him and unable to bring himself to think of what it might mean.

"I… I do not remember them well and I know I should," she said and Aragorn did not need to ask who she referred to, "in an effort to protect me those memories were fragmented and locked away. I have yet to fully gather them back, but I have made peace with that fate."

She stood then and gathered her skirts away from the floor as she moved to step around the chair. A befuddled expression painted across her face and he watched her silently fully aware of the line he nearly crossed. She clearly was as well.

"I must go to the hobbits. They would like some company before I meet with Arwen," she explained.

"I fear I must depart as well. If evil has tried to invade it is best discouraged as much as possible," he said gravelly.

Brianna nodded and he stood with her. She looked agitated, as if she was considering something to say but didn't quite know how to say it or whether she wanted to.

 _Best to place this conversation on hold until I can divine exactly what has happened,_ he thought.

"Good day, Brianna. I pray for Frodo's recovery," he said.

"As do I, along with your safe return," she said and smiled.

He turned to go and was nearly out of the dining hall when he heard the faint mutter of her voice say, "please don't die." Aragorn didn't know what to make of it and kept walking, but filed that plea away for further consideration on a later date.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **The Room of Fire**

 **Author's Note:** _It's been a while since I last updated, I know. I had wanted to get this updated in October, but as always I find the Imladris chapters as slow and frustrating as I had when I first wrote this story a long time ago. With that being said I like what I've written a lot better than the tripe I posted in the other story. Brianna and Aragorn's relationship is progressing faster than I originally planned for it, but I feel like it works better for his character anyway. I'm not complaining. If it works then it works. Enjoy!_

* * *

When Frodo woke Gandalf was with him and had the gall not to make a peep about it. The only reason why Brianna discovered this but if news was due to Sam leading his friend onto the porch she, the wizard, Merry and Pippin rested on speaking of Earth. Merry and Pippin peppered her with questions about what manner of food people ate there. This required some delicacy as things like Hamburgers and Hot dogs were likely things the people of Arda could barely fathom. Gandalf was more sober about the subject and Brianna found herself speaking more about elves, dwarves, Fae and Dragons to him than anything else. Collectively they seemed more fascinated by the idea that Earth held two types of Dragons: good dragons and evil dragons. Their personalities tended to differ.

"I'm friends with the Dragon Queen," Brianna explained shortly before Frodo appeared.

Gandalf leaned forward and the putrid smell of pipe smoke puffed into her. Brianna wrinkled her nose and blinked away the water gathered along her tear ducts at the unpleasant irritant.

"You're friends with the Dragon Queen?" He asked, "What manner of creature is this Queen?"

She shrugged, "A golden scaled pain in the ass?"

"Bilbo didn't describe Smaug with golden scales."

All of them started and swung their heads to look at Frodo who walked through the door that led to the porch they converged on many hours ago for tea. Brianna smiled and felt no small amount of relief in her heart. One survived. It was hard. She'd traveled and fought hard to bring him to this point and Frodo survived. Pippin spring up from his seat.

"Hear comes our noble cousin! Frodo Baggins, The Lord of the Ring!" He chirped cheerfully.

"Hush!" Gandalf grunted, "None is that here! Evil does not come into this valley, but it is best not to name it."

"Gandalf has been saying many a cheerful thing these past several days," Pippin said, "He seems to be under the impression that I need correcting. However, I feel like singing right now though I can't think of a song for such an occasion."

Brianna smiled and sang, "Healing, oh, healing The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul The ills of my body were healed by the strips of His back The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul."

Frodo chuckled, "That is certainly a related lyric. Did you compose it?"

She laughed and replied, "Not in the least. I'm a fairly poor poet."

"You sing quite well though your choice of style is far different from the elves in Arda," Gandalf remarked.

"Styles and vocal tone vary depending on the musical genre I choose to sing," she explained.

They squinted at her. Brianna chuckled and waved off the comment. Arda didn't seem to have a particularly diverse set of vocal techniques. Ballads and simple songs seemed to be the choice of expression and very few she'd heard contained more than a simple melody with occasional harmonics. It didn't surprise her. Elves used harps of various sizes for the accompanying instrumentals. Powerful voices with full range of vocal dynamics would not provide the desired effect.

 _Maybe I'll introduce something to Bilbo. That old Hobbit might get an itch to compose something_ , she thought slyly and allowed such a smile to crawl across her lips.

"I felt they were appropriate to the circumstance, Mithrandir," she said instead and used the name her people gave the wizard.

Gandalf grunted and worried the mouthpiece of his long lips with his teeth. Frodo steppes forward and grasped Brianna's hands affectionately. He smiled at her and she felt her heart melt. So much about the Hobbit was open and guileless that moments came and went where she wished she knew more people like him.

"I may feel like singing," Frodo said resolutely, "but I feel more like eating as of now."

'That will soon be cured," said Pippin. "You have shown your usual cunning in getting up just in time for a meal."

"More than a meal! A feast!" said Merry. "As soon as Gandalf reported that you were recovered, the preparations began."

He had hardly finished speaking when they were summoned to the hall by the ringing of many bells. Brianna grinned and reached out her hand to Sam who wasted little time in grabbing it.

"I, for one, am glad we can eat real food for a chance!" Brianna chirped. "Travel food is quite bland!"

She pulled them into the hall. Frodo lagged a bit and she slowed her pace to accommodate him. Gandalf trailed a step behind her with Merry and Pippin close behind speaking about food.

"A strange land you hail from, Lady Brianna of Davis," Gandalf remarked.

Frodo interjected here, "Bri says she doesn't come from a land, but a planet! What strange words she says to describe her world, are they not Gandalf?"

Brianna glanced at the wizard and saw his troubled expression. She shrugged and thought it best to remain silent. From the wizard's countenance she divined that he likely knew what Frodo meant.

"Curious," Gandalf said after a moment.

"There are these great horseless carriages that can cover leagues in a few hours! Imagine that! If we'd such a thing during our journey!" Sam breathed.

 _I shouldn't have told them about that,_ she thought, _I doubt they're at a point in this world to handle that technology._

From the look Gandalf was giving her it was clear he thought the same thing. Brianna did the only thing she could think of in this situation and stuck her tongue out at him. The hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves for the most part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Elrond, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, on the other side was Gandalf to sit.

Elrond stood and spread his arms at their coming and smiled a smile Brianna had to squint to see. What was it with her people neglecting to smile as much in Arda? Why were they so grim?

"Welcome, honored guests! I invite you to my table!" He said.

With that they were separated. Frodo was placed between Gandalf and a dwarf Brianna barely had time to smile at and place her right hand over her heart to bow reverently to him before she was whisked away. It was between Glorfindel and Arwen she was to sit. She turned to the high elf and smiled.

"I see you're back from wherever you went off to with Aragorn. Where, may I ask, is he?" She asked.

It was a valid question she told herself. Aragorn was nowhere to be seen and yet Glorfindel was with them. He had gone with them. For a moment Brianna felt the stabbing fear of the ranger having died on the road, but immediately brushed it away. The elf looked to be in far too good of humor to be mourning the death of a friend.

"You certainly may, Lady! Aragorn is still out with Elrohir and Elladan. They were unsure of what they found – a beast in the water – and are currently inspecting the corpse," he explained.

Brianna listened as he described the dead creature and how they killed it. Tension left her and she relaxed into her chair. Beside her Brianna noticed Arwen watching her with unmasked interest.

"I suspect you killed a Kelpie," she informed him. "They tend to wait for the unsuspecting to enter the water before attacking."

"That it did!" Glorfindel chuckled, "Estel wasn't pleased with it ambushing him and hacked the thing in half."

She smiled, "So much more pleasant than what I do to them."

Brianna didn't elaborate on that comment and uncovered the dishes before her. Soups, salads, meat pies, and breads and cheeses littered the dishes before her. There wasn't a good place to begin, so she started with the cheese and dried meats. The cheese was different than what she was used to on earth. A certain richness met her tongue and Brianna released a groan of delight without quite realizing she had until it died away. Arwen smiled at her and handed her a bit of the bread and jam.

"I didn't think cheese was such a rare commodity on Earth," she remarked.

"It isn't. This quality is," Brianna said and took a bite of the bread and jam.

Lord Elrond had selected the best from his stores, it seemed. The last few meals she ate lacked the rich quality of taste the food this night did. Arwen leaned towards her. Her eyes were eager, almost hungry, and clutched a fork tightly between fingers.

"Tell me of your journey. I must know! My father has forbade me wandering anywhere of late," she said.

Brianna breathed and launched into the tale beginning with her falling on top of Aragorn and almost becoming a dead elf at the end of his knife. Arwen looked amused by that bit of the tale; especially when she listened to Brianna's opinion about the man's body odor. The tale was long and added to by Glorfindel once she reached his part of their journey.

"I was surprised to see you. Lord Elrond and I felt the disturbances in the land and wind, but we weren't certain as to the cause. Your being here had lightened our hearts considerably," Glorfindel said after Brianna had explained the moment where she almost ambushed him with the flora and landscape.

 _Do they know?_ She wondered while she watched the elf explain the significance of what Brianna could do in regards to raw power to Arwen.

The elleth soaked up the information with considerable eagerness that Brianna didn't think was warranted. During the days of her minute magical ability (I.e. none at all) she hadn't given a moment's thought to the skill. Arwen didn't seem to have such an opinion. She leaned forward enraptured by Glorfindel's waxing eloquence with a particular shine in her eyes that made Brianna nearly groan once she interpreted the expression.

It made sense. Arwen was easily the most beautiful elf in the room and, from what she could tell, Glorfindel held a certain carriage that told of an almost kingly origin. She sighed and returned her focus to the food before her while the older elves conversed. It was highly unlikely she would gain any more conversation from them that night.

 _This is getting awkward. Can I move or would it be considered too rude?_ She wondered.

Almost as if her wish to move had been granted Lord Elrond rose to his feet. Arwen noted his movement and stood with him. Brianna pushed back her chair and rose as Elrond and Arwen began to walk out of the room. She waited for Frodo and Gandalf to move away from the table and joined them in their journey.

Lord Elrond led them through several doors all variously carved an decorated to fit whatever whim the elf lord had at the time. The adjoining halls were styled in the same way. Some were simple stone work while others had walls bedecked with paintings or tapestries detailing what Brianna could discern from her cursory glances various important events in the history of Arda. As she hadn't traversed that particular hallway before Brianna felt an itch in her fingers to inspect each painting and picture to try and interpret it in some way or another.

They passed one hall that stopped her in her tracks. Gandalf and Frodo ceased walking as well and gazed at the Great paining detailed on the wall's very stone. A broken sword. A human wearing battered silver armor. Standing above him was a great shadowed man clad in the blackest of armor lifting a mace over his head as if about to strike. Carefully painted on the hand holding the mace was the ring Frodo carried.

She swallowed.

 _Sauron. I wonder how long ago this was._

"Isildur's triumph over the Dark Lord," Gandalf said.

Brianna turned to him and met his kind blue eyes, "Who is Isildur?"

Lord Elrond stepped forward, "A friend I knew over two thousand years ago. We fought at the Black Gate and won by his quick thinking. He cut the ring from the Dark One and broke his power. Once it seemed he was no more the enemy's battalions fled. But Isildur's triumph also became his downfall. He took the ring instead of casting it into the fires from whence it was wrought. In the end it led to his ruin and the eventual ruin of his line."

Gandalf grimly inclined his head, "But that is a subject for another night. Now, we have a cause for celebrating! Our friend Frodo Baggins lives despite perilous odds! And we have a treat for him and his staunch protector."

With that he winked at both of them and allowed Lord Elrond to continue on. Brianna glanced down at Frodo who stared after Gandalf with a troubled look painted across his face. She patted his head.

"Best we wait to ask questions. I suspect the answers are coming," she said softly.

"I almost wish I didn't have to know them," Frodo whispered in reply as they carried on with their trek.

Brianna didn't reply. She knew. Every ounce of her being begged to learn the situation in its entirety, but there was no way to do so. They soon entered another large hall. In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side (Fellowship of the Ring).

"What is this?" Frodo asked.

"This is the Hall of Fire, my lad, where you will hear many songs and tales. You may also find yourself dozing during such renditions. The fires keep the hall warm and wine and cheese and bread are accessible. Now, come with me. I believe there is someone you would like to see," Gandalf said and steered Frodo away from the fire and towards a particular corner.

Elrond walked forward and tapped on the shoulder of a little man whose face was covered and appeared to be asleep. The little man woke with a start and uncovered his face. Promptly Frodo moved swiftly away from her and Gandalf and raced over to the man.

"Bilbo!" Came his delighted cry.

"Hullo, Frodo my lad!" said Bilbo. "So you have got here at last. I hoped you would manage it. Well, well! So all this feasting is in your honour, I hear. I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

Brianna felt a small smile spread across her face as she stepped toward them a bit. Gandalf grunted and moved away from them.

"Why weren't you there?" cried Frodo. "And why haven't I been allowed to see you before?"

Bilbo waved his hand airily and replied, "Because you were asleep. I have seen a good deal of you. I have sat by your side with Sam each day. But as for the feast, I don't go in for such things much now. And I had something else to do."

Brianna approached them at this point and took a seat beside Bilbo to watch their conversation with growing fascination. Bilbo was a lively old man. Very likable and had all the makings of a natural poet. To imagine the idea of any student she'd ever had the displeasure to teach sitting in a corner just to think! Some of her fellow professors, back when she had taught in a university, rarely sat and thought about something substantial.

"I'm stuck now, my boy! You lot finished your feast too soon and now the lines will flutter away from me. I shall have to ask Dunedin to help me," He rationalized.

Lord Elrond who was a little bit away and had heard this discourse inclined his head, "We shall find him directly."

While messengers were sent out to find Bilbo's friend the old Hobbit told Frodo all about what had become of him after they last parted. As Brianna didn't have much context of what had happened before she found herself listening to a song currently being sung by a female elf. Her voice was light and airy and echoed with little emotion. Brianna sighed and moved to sit against the wall.

No musical genius indeed! She thought. This place needs a Mozart.

"Have you got it here?" She heard Bilbo whisper.

The secrecy of the question startled her back from the song and her musings about Mozart. Brianna returned her gaze to the hobbits and noticed Frodo looking incredibly uncomfortable about something.

"I can't help feeling curious, you know, after all I've heard. I should very much like just to peep at it again," Bilbo continued.

Brianna's eyes narrowed. What was he playing at?

"Yes, I've got it," answered Frodo, feeling a strange reluctance. "It looks just the same as ever it did."

"Well, I should just like to see it for a moment," said Bilbo.

She was very much alert at that. Bilbo was all too eager to see this ring that even she hadn't laid eyes on. There was never a desire to. Frodo reaches into his shirt and drew it out. Brianna felt the great sense of absurdity at her situation hit her once again. The ring was plain good. There wasn't anything extraordinary about it. In fact it wouldn't even fit on her thumb let alone any of her other fingers.

Then she saw the pull with Bilbo and the change in expression on Frodo's face and realized why it was so dangerous. The ring played with one's heart's desire. Bilbo's was always to be left alone thus the ring became beautiful to him. Frodo's was a life of peace surrounded by comfort and beauty and the ring played with that. It whispered into their hearts and minds and told them of all the things it could make better for them. A power so subtle was dangerous.

 _I can make you never be elven Queen. I can help you bring them back_ , she heard in her mind.

Brianna's brows shot to the top of her forehead. If she'd needed any confirmation there it was.

 _I'd rather be skinned alive for the rest of my outrageously long life,_ she replied to it then promptly shut it out of her mind and heart.

She could feel its rage at having been brushed off so easily. It made her smile. It clearly didn't like being brushed off.

Bilbo looked quickly at Frodo's face and passed his hand across his eyes.

"I understand now," he said. "Put it away! I am sorry: sorry you have come in for this burden; sorry about everything. Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story. Well, it can't be helped. I wonder if it's any good trying to finish my book? But don't let's worry about it now –let's have some real News! Tell me all about the Shire!"

Frodo obliged and Brianna returned her attention to the music feeling remarkably light hearted. The ring was just as ridiculous as she thought it was.

* * *

Aragorn has returned several hours earlier and had taken a private dinner in his rooms. Shortly thereafter he took out a particularly riveting account of a the life of Earendil and amused himself in its lyrical prose. Such a reading was short lived when a knock from one of Lord Elrond's messengers interrupted his reading.

"Master Bilbo asks that you join him in the Hall of Fire. He says he has a particularly trying poem he is working on and needs the contribution of your expertise," the elf said with an amused smile.

Aragorn chuckled and told the messenger to let Lord Elrond and Bilbo know that he would be there shortly. He washed his face and changed into a green silk tunic before setting out for his requested destination. A few turns away from the hall Aragorn came upon a man in travel clothing – human – gazing in wonder at the great painting. The man reached out and traced the depiction of a broken Narsil.

"Such detail! It the very image I see when I read of it," said the traveler.

Aragorn watched him silently curious as to who this person was and why they were in Elrond's house. Was he there for the Council? The traveler glanced in his direction, blinked, then stepped away from the mural seemingly embarrassed at being caught admiring.

"Forgive me! I was merely admiring the history shown to us here. I am Boromir, son of Denethor of Gondor. I have come for Lord Elrond's council on an important matter," he said.

"Lord Elrond is engaged at present," Aragorn replied, "but he will be available on the morrow. Have you been offered food and shelter?"

"Yes! One called Elrohir discovered me at the stables and helped me with accommodations. I had hoped… but I suppose it matters not. The hour is late and I have traveled far. Matters of importance should be discussed with a clear conscience," Boromir offered a smile.

Aragorn merely nodded. If Elrohir found this traveler relatively benign then he supposed it would be alright to at least let him find his room. Boromir, as Aragorn remembered he was called, inclined his head.

"Pleasant evening to you," he said and left the hall back in the direction Aragorn had come.

He stepped toward the mural and studied it frowning up, not at the broken sword, but at the likeness of his ancestor who held it. Isuildor who's folly had left them in the predicament they were in now. Now the ring was close to him and though he currently had no desire for it his heart could change later on. He was a son of Isuildor's line. The weakness was there.

"You are not Isildur," came a withered elderly voice from behind him.

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder and saw the grey form of Gandalf sitting on a wall bench opposite him smoking a pipe. The old wizard smiled gently in his direction and Aragorn returned his attention to the mural and shook his head.

"The same blood flows through my veins and the same weakness. I cannot foresee a moment when I will not snatch the ring from Frodo's grasp should he offer it to me, or if I see it simply lying there unattended," he said softly in an attempt to mask the full weight of the fear coursing through him.

Gandalf shifted behind him and Aragorn imagined him leaning forward as he blew out a smoke ring.

"May I remind you that it is not only Isildur's blood that flows through your veins, but Earendil's as well?" Gandalf admonished kindly.

 _Does this wizard read minds_? He wondered.

Aragorn smiled ruefully and replied, "There is none like him, Mithrandir."

Gandalf chuckled, "Every man and women is one of their own kind despite similarities. You are your own person, Estel, and the strength of one's character is not reflected in one's bloodline, but in the person they allow themselves to become."

He remained silent, unwilling to reply to his friend's words. While he was certain Gandalf was right, he always was, it didn't allay the self-doubt that continued to plague him. There was no guarantee.

 _Fear is the mind-killer._

Aragorn blinked as if waking from a trance. Brianna said that phrase many times. He needed to ask her about the context.

"Well, my boy, I have come to tell you that dinner has ended and everyone has gathered in the Hall of Fire. There, I imagine, you will find a certain elf maiden with an affinity for hiding small knives on her person conversing with the young masters Bilbo and Frodo," there was a tone to Gandalf's voice that made Aragorn turn around and shoot him a confused look.

Gandalf merely smiled at him.

"I take it she made fast friends with Bilbo?" Aragorn asked after a moment.

"Oh, not yet. Frodo's taken most of the conversation though I suspect they will discover similar interests soon," Gandalf replied sagely.

Aragorn smiled. The things she and Bilbo could talk about! He certainly wished to be present for that conversation.

"I am certain they will," he replied.

"I'm certain she'll be happy to see you," Gandalf remarked.

Aragorn raised a brown, "What makes you believe that?"

"She was wondering where you were. Seemed a bit disappointed you weren't there, though I doubt she's the type who will openly admit to it," the wizard replied with a chuckle following shortly after.

Aragorn pursed his lips. He understood why Gandalf was attempting to speak to him about this. The matter; however appealing it may be to him, was out of the question. Brianna wasn't just an elf. She was from another world. To consider her as anything else but a friend would lead them both to ruin.

"I am glad she is well," Aragorn settled for as a reply.

Gandalf still grinned at him and Aragorn's shoulders sagged. What passed between them a few mornings ago had, indeed, been noticed.

"Mithrandir," Aragorn started then faltered.

What can I say? I don't even understand it, he thought.

"Bilbo waits," Gandalf said, "Best go an help him with his song."

With that the wizard wandered off leaving Aragorn to stare after him for a moment before turning for the Hall of Fire. The rest of the journey required one extra turn and twenty more steps before the door to the Hall was made visible. His stomach squirmed in anticipation and Aragorn has to calm himself before entering the hall.

At first he couldn't see them. There were many people in the hall and two dwarves were singing a duet together. Some of the elves in attendance seemed to be enjoying the ballad while others looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Brianna, he noticed when he finally found her with both Bilbo and Frodo, seemed to be one of those elves who thoroughly enjoyed the show. She was clapping her hands together in time with the beat and laughing at the appropriate places. Aragorn smiled at the sight. He had grown to like her when they traveled, but seeing her relaxed was another matter entirely. She was beautiful.

Bilbo looked up at this point and grinned, "Ah! Dunadan! There you are! I was wondering where you got to!"

Brianna heard this and finally saw him as he made his way to them across the hall. She seemed stunned for a moment before making as if to stand. He smiled and motioned for her to stay and watched her relax once again.

"Dunadan? Why do you call him that?" Frodo asked.

"It's a strange one," Brianna agreed, "tell us all Bilbo or I'll be forced to extract it from Aragorn, here!"

She winked at him. He flushed. Bilbo smiled at him and Aragorn didn't miss the particular look in his eyes that told him what Aragorn had wanted to hide was easily seen by those who knew him well. Frodo looked only looked confused.

"And why do you call him Dúnadan?" asked Frodo.

"The Dúnadan,' said Bilbo. 'He is often called that here. But I thought you knew enough Elvish at least to know dúnadan: Man of the West, Númenórean. But this is not the time for lessons!" He turned to Strider. "Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? Glorfindel was there and it was assumed you would be here."

"I was," Aragorn replied, "I only returned shortly before the feast began, but I needed rest. We tracked many creatures these past few days."

Brianna leaned forward, "Are they able to cross into Lord Elrond's lands?"

"No," Aragorn replied and met her eyes, "there were a few we think first appeared here, but they are no longer alive."

She smiled, "Good."

Her eyes captivated him and Aragorn felt the danger of continuing to allow himself to be drawn in by her beauty. Brianna, like most elves, was relatively unaware of how beautiful she was. In her case she shown like the joyful flames in the Hall of Fire. If he didn't exercise caution his heart would make an ill-advised decision.

Bilbo cleared his throat and interjected, "Well, my dear fellow now you've had your rest, can't you spare me a moment? I want your help in something urgent. Elrond says this song of mine is to be finished before the end of the evening, and I am stuck. Let's go off into a corner and polish it up!"

Strider smiled and turned away from her. Brianna laughed and nudged Frodo. She murmured something slightly below his hearing that made the young Hobbit burst into barely controlled laughter. Bilbo smiled at him and Aragorn decided it was best not to address anything Bilbo may have noticed.

"Come then!" he said. "Let me hear it!"

* * *

Brianna watched as Bilbo and Aragorn drew away from them a ways. The old hobbit took out a few sheets of paper and pointed out whatever he was having trouble with. Her smile never left her face and she turned to Frodo who looked a bit forlorn now that his uncle left to do something else.

"The music has been interesting," she said.

"Are you going to sing?" He asked.

Brianna shuddered, "By The Triune I think not! You've heard a couple songs from my world. You know they're not as beautiful as those sung here."

Frodo shrugged, "I thought yours had some life."

"A human did write it," she replied.

"Do your people not have their own music?"

Brianna paused to reflect on her answer before giving it, "We do, but we've influenced the human race in the arts. There's little they do that we haven't shown them."

Frodo leaned forward and smiled, "That sounds wonderful. Does all music on earth sound the same or is it different?"

Brianna pulled a face, "It sounds different and the same. Some of what's popular for the masses isn't particularly good."

The way Frodo stared up at her told her everything she needed to know. He wanted her to sing something. The current song had ended a minute or two earlier Brianna wasn't entirely certain and the attending elves all began looking at the two of them.

"We wait patiently for Master Bilbo to finish his song. We'd like to hear one from you, Miss Brianna," Glorfindel said.

Brianna glanced at the lot of them and felt a bit frustrated. She didn't like singing in front of people. Not after her experience in that thrice damned opera house. Vary blue and green eyes stared at her. All waited as if they held their breaths not expecting her to decline.

She sighed and stood. There was probably something she could sing. In the end she did find something. It would also be radically different from what they were used to.

 _Never mind the fact that it would sound better with an orchestra_ , she thought.

"This is a piece written about one hundred and fifty years ago by a man named Friedrich von Flotow. On earth we have musical plays called arias. This is a piece from the opera, Martha," she said as a bit of an introduction.

Then she closed her eyes, took a breath, remembered what the words to the song meant and suddenly wished she picked something else. There was no going back now. Surely the elves of Arda didn't know German?

 _"Zum treuen Freunde geh'._  
 _Den Plan ihm zu entdecken,_  
 _Den mein bereuend Herz_  
 _Voll Zuversicht erdacht,_  
 _Aus dumpfer Schwermuth_  
 _Traum den Theuren zu erwecken_  
 _Mit neuem Hoffnungsstrahl_  
 _Nach trüber Kerkernacht._  
 _Noch vernahm er nicht die Kunde,_  
 _Wie die Zukunft schön ihm tagt._  
 _Ja! Ich heile selbst die Wunde,_  
 _Die ich schlug!_  
 _Es sei gewagt!_

 _Den Theuren zu versöhnen_  
 _Durch wahre Reu',_  
 _Sein Dasein zu verschönen_  
 _Mit Lieb' und Treu'_  
 _Mein Loos mit ihm zu theilen,_  
 _Durch's Leben hin zu eilen,_  
 _Ach welch Glück!_

 _Ja, nun darf ich frei ihm sagen,_  
 _Wie mein Herz, seit ich ihn sah,_  
 _Nur für ihn geschlagen, ja!_  
 _Wie sein Bild mir immer nah'._  
 _Ah! O seliger Gedankem_  
 _O Hoofnungsschein!_  
 _Es sank die Trennungsschranke,_  
 _Mein wird er, mein, ja, mein!"_

When the last echoes her voice died in the room the attendants erupted in applause. Then the questions began. Brianna had never been set upon by a more enthusiastic audience. The question most common concerned what exactly an opera was. Such a concept of singing and acting was foreign to them. In fact Brianna began to suspect that acting on a stage in front of an audience hadn't yet been invented. Others inquired after the language and the meaning of the words.

"Is this a love song?" Arwen finally asked.

Brianna wasn't sure if her face reflected her embarrassment, but she decided to refrain from even glancing toward anyone in particular.

"Of a sort…" she said.

Admitting that stirred an excitement in the room. Sensation hummed in the air and the elves wanted to know the whole plot of the opera. Who was this woman singing such a sweetly beautiful song?

The dwarves were less excited about the meaning of the song. In fact one whom Brianna remembered conversed with Frodo at the feast looked increasingly smug.

"I recognized some of the words," he announced.

The elves, in their excitement, turned to him. It took all of Brianna's self-control to refrain from groaning. Another dwarf, a younger version of the one Frodo spent the evening speaking with, walked up to her and patted her hand.

"I enjoyed it," he said, "it's nice to hear something close to our language sung by such skill. You called it German?"

Brianna sank to her knees and smiled at him, "It is. There's three favorite languages for operas: German, French, and Italian. I, personally, enjoy singing in German."

She spent about an hour discussing differences between the language the dwarf, Gimli she learned, and German. This devolved into a discussion of architecture in Germany and the many hundreds of castles built in that country. Gimli spoke of the great underground palaces and cities built by his people completely carved from the rocks of the mountains.

A voice with a remarkably pure tenor interrupted her description of Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany and the dwarf and elf ceased their conversation to listen.

 _"Eärendil was a mariner that tarried in Arvernien;_

 _he built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in;_

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow he fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,

in chainéd rings he armoured him;

his shining shield was scored with runes

to ward all wounds and harm from him;

his bow was made of dragon-horn,

his arrows shorn of ebony,

of silver was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

his sword of steel was valiant,

of adamant his helmet tall,

an eagle-plume upon his crest,

upon his breast an emerald.

Beneath the Moon and under star

he wandered far from northern strands,

bewildered on enchanted ways

beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

where shadow lies on frozen hills,

from nether heats and burning waste he turned in haste,

and roving still on starless waters

far astray at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw of shining shore

nor light he sought. The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled from west to east,

and errandless, unheralded he homeward sped.

There flying Elwing came to him, a

nd flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond the fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

and crowned him with the living light,

and dauntless then with burning brow he turned his prow;

and in the night from Otherworld beyond the Sea

there strong and free a storm arose,

a wind of power in Tarmenel;

by paths that seldom mortal goes

his boat it bore with biting breath

as might of death across the grey and long-forsaken seas distressed:

from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran o'er leagues

unlit and foundered shores that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

where ends the world the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees of Valinor,

and Eldamar beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night to haven white he came at last,

to Elvenhome the green and fair where keen the air,

where pale as glass beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world were visions showed forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him of mithril and of elven-glass w

ith shining prow; no shaven oar nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light and banner bright

with living flame to gleam thereon by Elbereth herself was set,

who thither came and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven's lofty hills where softly silver fountains

fall his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From World's End then he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking dawn where grey the Norland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids in Elder Days, in years of yore.

 _But on him mighty doom was laid,_

till Moon should fade, an orbéd star to pass,

and tarry never more on Hither Shores where mortals are;

for ever still a herald on an errand that should never rest to bear

his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse."

Brianna and Gimli smiled at Bilbo and applauded with the rest of his listeners. Aragorn, she noted, was more than happy to duck away from all of the attention Bilbo was getting in regards to the song. She waved at him and he came. Gimli also raised his hand in greeting.

"Aragorn! It's good to see you again! Some years have passed since we last spoke. Where were you this evening?" He asked.

"Resting," Aragorn said, "I was fatigued after searching for signs the enemy."

"We must meet at the training grounds tomorrow, my friend," Gimli said and stood, "but now I must depart. Father is motioning for me and I suspect he may be fatigued."

Brianna smiled, "I hope you and your father rest well thig night."

Gimli bowed to her. She saw Aragorn raise an eyebrow. In return Brianna inclined her head.

"Many thanks for your stimulating conversation and the beautiful song, my lady," he said and left.

Aragorn sat beside her on the ground. Silence descended between them as another song drifted into the hall. Brianna noticed that Frodo and Bilbo were silently taking their leave. The younger hobbit glanced her way and she met his gaze with a smile. They listened in silence as two companions who had worked together to meet a specific goal and became friends along the way.

"Was it a romantic song?" Aragorn asked after a while.

She flushed and mumbled an affirmative. At a glance she saw the corners of his lips quirk into his version of a smile. The expression in his blue eyes told her everything she needed to know. He was amused by the choice of song.

"It's a beautiful song," she whispered, "the plot of the opera, itself, is rather silly, but the aria is beautiful."

"A song is only as beautiful as the voice that sings it," Aragorn countered and caused her flush to redden.

"You should hear the instruments that accompany the song. They add to it and are probably what would make it all the more beautiful," she said while remembering singing the piece backed by the accompanying orchestra.

Aragorn looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Did you... what sort of magic do you have?"

She blinked, "It's mostly elemental in nature with a few variations. Why do you ask?"

"I could hear an echo of music. Where you thinking of it?" He asked.

Brianna frowned. He could hear the orchestra? She had brought the instrumentals in the background of her mind with a few variations to account for her acapella rendition, but for other people to hear the orchestra? She wasn't consciously bringing it to her forethought nor was she attempting to project it into the minds of the people in the room.

Her brows furrowed. This was a strange bit of knowledge she just learned and Brianna wasn't sure how she should proceed with it. A weight settled on her hand and rough fingers curled into the palm of her hand.

"Do not think of it," he said softly, "very few understand our own magic. Your song was a blessing to us. Do not fear what the rest of us heard."

"I remember when Aragorn who was Strider did not trust my magic and went so far as to call it sorcery," she reminded him.

Their eyes met and she was lost in their blue sea.

"I changed my perception."

 _Oh dear..._ she thought, _he's beautiful._

His eyes reflected the intensity of his feelings. He was awed, afraid, and enraptured by her. Brianna admired his eyes, the slant of his brow and the angle of his jaw. All of it formed the picture of a man who beheld her, saw her, not as a huntress or a queen, but as something softer.

And he... he was softer in the halls of Imladris than in the wild. Clothed in simple, but comfortable garb cleaned from the dirt and grim gathered on such trips. Once the wild was removed a man, not ugly or particularly plain, but kind and noble remained. It stole her breath away.

 _Shit, what am I doing?_

Brianna pulled her hand away. It was like wrenching her shoulder out of its socket. The movement was a stab to her heart and she couldn't understand why. He wasn't from earth. One day she would have to leave, have to return, and have to rule her people in earnest.

"I should go," she said and stood, "Frodo and the hobbits invited me to breakfast tomorrow and then there is that council a bit later. I've been invited to attend. Lord Elrond has provided me with a week's worth of clothes and I should prepare."

Aragorn rose with her, "Would you like me to walk you to your rooms?"

"No thank you, Aragorn," she said, "its best I go alone."

Understanding passed across his face and the wall they'd crossed for only a moment fell back in place.

"Of course. Good night, Brianna. Rest well," he muttered.

"And you as well, Aragorn," she said and allowed all of her affection for him saturate her tone.

 _Because I do care for you more than I ever thought I would._ And I can't let it get too far, she thought.

There was no denying it as she turned away from him and left the Hall of Fire to return to her quarters on the other side of Lord Elrond's house. She was attracted to Aragorn and there was a high possibility he was attracted to her. It couldn't grow beyond that. She wouldn't let it. She would speak her piece at the council, discuss with them what she suspects might be the case – as limited her knowledge on the subject of inter-world travel was – then figure out a way to not only repair and close anything her enemies may have opened, but then return to earth where she was supposed to be in the first place. There was no room for a ranger from Arda no matter how noble he was.

* * *

 _ **Brianna's a bit cold here, but from my perspective it's completely in character. She's busy, she has some evil bastards to kill! She ain't got time for some Aragorn. At least this is my thought process for the direction of her character. I figured this would be better than having both of them continuously deny their attraction to the other. If attraction is there then it's going to be there. Anyway, if you like that bit let me know in a review. If you didn't like it let me know anyway and, well, I won't change it because I'm a busy woman with National Novel Writing Month and all, but I will try to scale it back.**_


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **The Great Expanse**

 **Author's Note:** _first update of this month. I'm reserving this month mostly for my original fiction, but figured Consequences of a Huntress could use a bit of an update. As I didn't want to tackle the Council of Elrond just yet as that chapter is going to be long and I need to study it for a bit before I can start it in earnest I also wanted to write another chapter featuring Brianna's peeps and what they're doing to try and find her in Arda. Enjoy!_

* * *

" _Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness covered the surface of the watery depths, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day," and He called the darkness "night." Evening came and then morning: the first day,"_ Loki read from the open book before him.

Contrary to the content recited it wasn't The Bible. Artemis had read the author's name before Loki opened the book. Maf had written it back in the early twentieth century. One of his favorite ways to present ideas was to quote things. The Bible was one script he typically chose from. Beside her Matt eagerly leaned forward eyes as bright as a super nova.

"The expanse," Matt breathed, "This is it, isn't it? Maf's explanation about inter-galaxy travel! They won't even let me read that yet!"

Loki peered at him over the edge of the book and fixed the young wizard with a reproachful gaze, "That's because you're not disciplined enough to try it. It is easy for those of us who have the knowledge, but you're not ready. It is why Mafortion and Ailya were able to depart for Arda and you were not."

"But you're here," Karen pointed out from where she sat near the fire of their New England parlor.

Loki cleared his throat, "I'm here because I'm not particularly good at landing and need the professor to steer."

"Oh aye? I ken that by your atrocious driving," Karen quipped.

The notorious trickster closed the book and leaned forward. Karen didn't so much as blink out of place. This caused a grin to slowly stretch across Loki's face.

"I thought you enjoyed atrocious driving seeing as your aim is always so erratic," he replied.

"Alright, stop flirting with The Who-knows-how-old Raiphahim, Karen! You're impeding valuable research!" Matt complained.

Artemis shook her head. _When did they revert back to a pack of teenagers?_ She wondered.

Loki always seemed to have that effect on people. Well, most people. People who didn't look, speak or act like her. It wasn't even as if Artemis didn't have a sense of humor. She did, but the time waisted by such an inconsequential exchange irked her.

A fire flickered behind the ancient beyond ancient beings and created a kind, playful, look about his features. Gas lamps burned on a low flame near the door on one end of the room and the window on the other. The room was dim and filled with old dusty books and complicated science equipment. Maf's office was the only part of the manor that was rarely used. He moved about the world so often that the only thing Artemis could do was work to keep it relatively the same as he had left it.

Artemis had purchased the property in Boston around the time after the French and Indian War. It was in a relatively quiet neighborhood at the time surrounded by people who mostly kept to themselves. In the two hundred years following that purchase the neighborhood remained virtually the same. It was why they were there. Whatever Loki needed to do to transport them from Earth to Arda would go unnoticed.

"I don't get it," Artemis said, "How is Genesis one an example of time and space?"

"It's recounting a moment of creation that does not involve the earth, itself, but a time long passed when the world was remade. Only Ailya and I remember this occurrence," Loki explained.

Matt gaped at him in awe. Artemis merely sighed and crossed her arms. Inevitably something always referenced the second creation. A time long before her's and only shortly before Professor Moruni's.

"Well, I don't see how this is relevant," she said.

Loki grinned, "It's not."

Artemis felt the beginnings of a headache form along her temples. She punched the bridge of her nose. There was a reason the Norsemen always referred to him as the god of mischief. It was frustrating to say the least.

"Loki, do we actually need to be here?" She snapped.

"I thought it would be educational."

Her hand grabbed the first thing she could think of – a small couch pillow – and launched the thing at the man. Loki snapped his fingers and moved the pillow from one space to another so it could hit the opposite wall harmlessly and tumble down to the floor.

"If I don't have to be here, can I please leave?" She asked in a voice that promised doom.

Loki chuckled, "If you don't wish to be educated run along little Huntress."

She grunted in response and stood. She stormed out of the room as quickly as she could before completely losing her temper.

The halls were long and inviting. On this particular floor each door led to a different training room put together long ago by the idiot in question. The archery range was the last one nearest the staircase and a large window that looked out over the old neighborhood. She entered and picked up a training bow and tip-less arrows and took aim at an unmoving target. A breath. Release. The arrow zipped through the air and struck the target with a loud thud.

"Program seven: Operation Mutant," She called out.

The lights in the room dimmed. A city scape appeared and she was positioned on a tall roof. Boston was a good place to make headquarters, but Artemis always used New York City's Manhattan burrow to train students in archery and riffle shooting. There was an occasional operation for close quarter archery and hand gun fighting she threw in to mix it up and that was what she needed that moment.

Vampires scaled the fire escapes and she shot two before whisking another arrow from its quiver and stabbing a vampire behind her in its neck. Then she spun and smacked three more in their mouths with the tip of her bow before rolling away and shooting them with three arrows at once.

She continued this dance for a good half hour before the operation was finished and the room returned to its original appearance. A sigh escaped her lips and she threw the bow to the ground and jerked the quiver's strap over her head to toss it away. If she was honest with herself, she was jealous of Maf. He did have the power and the knowledge to cross into Arda, but he wasn't family. She was Brianna's aunt. It should have been her that left for Arda.

"Fuck!" She groaned.

 _I'm the daughter of Zeus! I should be able to do something,_ she thought.

It was foolish to think so. She knew this. Many years ago when Aries ruler briefly as king she had been able to do little about it. It took Athena's return before stability returned to the elven race as a whole. So much more happened since then to both add to their peace and then abruptly take it away.

Tears pricked her eyes. Brianna was both her biggest failure and her proudest accomplishment. Both a prized student who excelled at almost everything against the odds imposed on her by her betters. Then, when finally faced with the ability to use magic shortly after turning one hundred, she had excelled at that as well, though Artemis hadn't helped in Brianna's instruction. Then there was the day she was crowned queen. That had been her proudest moment just to know Brianna could even make that step. Despite this the years when Brianna had struggled to make friends, the days when the deaths of those close to her became too much for her niece to bare, and when she finally had to step aside from the throne for a time and place Landion as regent - all of this had broken Artemis' heart.

Was this what it felt like to be a parent? She had never truly considered herself as one. A protector of sorts back when she was a bastard of Zeus to the girls and occasional boy who needed her help, but never a parent. She had forsworn such unnecessary attachments long ago. Children were what she considered as an impossibility given her vows were so severe.

 _But I raised Brianna,_ she thought, _and I had to treat her as a subordinate and then a queen. I couldn't be her mother. She never really had one._

"Cussing the room out isn't going to help her. Nor is acting pitiful. I thought you were better than this, girl?"

Artemis turned and nodded a small greeting to Laurel Moruni in an attempt to not reveal she had been taken by surprise. Laurel was good at sneaking up on people and taught her niece that skill with gusto. Brianna had returned to OLIMPUS in the short time before her brief coronation and then more permanently after she had attempted to abdicate. These later years saw a much more mysteriously savvy Huntress with the added bonus of being able to use magic.

All of that success could be positively attributed to the good Professor.

"It makes me feel less aggravated," she huffed.

Laurel nodded, "It worked?"

"No, no it didn't. I'm frustrated that Maf and Ailya were able to go after her already, but I'm stuck here waiting for Loki to figure out how to send a multitude there in one go without doing something stupid like materializing in the middle of the damn ocean," Artemis grumbled.

"That's because Loki was never good at such magic," Laurel replied.

Artemis sighed and moved to completely deactivate the training room. The lights dimmed and were replaced with the targets once again. She stared at them and noted with some satisfaction the multiple arrows penetrating their centers. The professor nodded to her with no small amount of pride.

"You were always the best archer I'd ever known and I've known many in my lifetime," she remarked.

Artemis shrugged and replied, "It didn't help Bri in the end, did it?"

"No, she's old enough to help herself," Laurel replied with a certain finality that chilled Artemis to the bone.

It had been a while since the professor spoke to her ex-ward. If she had then she would have known what Brianna had been going through after her failed attempt to abdicate the throne. The amount of self-loathing, anger, and self-destructive behavior almost made Artemis refuse to allow her to return. After thinking about it for a night she had done so anyway. Better the impulse she could control than the free agent she could not and Artemis had stamped some of it out.

 _But not enough,_ she thought forlornly.

The professor watched her for a good long moment, turned and opened the training room door, "I'm going out. Maf and Loki are engrossed in their little math equation. It's time to grab a bit of dinner. Want to come?"

Artemis nodded, "Might as well. Give me a chance to clean up and I'll meet you in an hour."

* * *

Maf wasn't sure where Ailya had gone. Their separation was intentional as was their purposeful distance from each other. It was only Maf's luck to appear in the middle of a wooden city with soldiers pointing their spears at him. A tall man stepped forward and removed his helm. The people around them tittered. Maf wasn't one to typically refer to people as peasants, but the people in this particular village could be described as little else.

He met the gaze of the knight. Tall, blue eyed, and blond haired – he wasn't anything Maf hadn't seen before. In fact, he seemed a little too boring for his taste though he supposed everyone needed something to work with.

"What do you call yourself and why have you come to these lands?" The man asked.

Maf raised an incredulous brow. It was close to Middle English, but the language had some interesting variations that made him pause to consider the question for a moment. How to word this?

He shook his head and decided to wing it, "I️ am Mafortion the Grey. I️ bring healing and advice should anyone wish to acquire it. No charge, of course, that would put a damper on our relationship."

He was mostly speaking to stall for time. The time he needed to build the well within consisting of the Fifth Element – the building blocks and unseen force that drove nature forward – so he could implement what he needed to in order to mend his current situation. It wouldn't be painful, only necessary.

"Are you an agent of the Dark Lord?" The man asked.

Maf blinked. Dark lord? _Oh yes! Sauron! The eye wreathed in flame!_

"No, never met the… uh… individual," Maf replied.

The knight drew back from him. Now he looked perplexed instead of defensive. It was a positive sign in Maf's book. His men looked just as unsure as their leader and didn't relent their defense.

"You say you are not affiliated with The Dark Lord, yet here you are who appeared suddenly falling from the sky. What are you?" The knight asked.

Maf has lived too long a life to ignore subtle hints. He picked up on one now from the tone of that clearly troubled man. There was only one thing to be done in such situations. _Stick it with the pointy end, as the young humans liked to say these days,_ he thought.

"I, young man, am an outlander from a world far from this. I have traveled in hopes of finding my apprentice. She has a habit of wandering off," Maf said sagely.

The men began to whisper. The word "outlander" was spoken amongst them several times in the proper modern English pronunciation. He didn't smile at that, but allowed himself a moment for self congratulation. It always pleased him to be able to teach people something useful.

Their young captain seemed to relax, "An outlander. And what is it you do, sir outlander?"

Maf met his gaze. _Yes,_ he thought, _there will be no need for false memories here._

He smiled and folded his hands against his belly. It was a toned belly with defined abdominal muscles he'd worked hard on keeping toned over the many years of his life. One never knew when the need would arise for him to make a great escape.

"I seek out dark thoughts and chase them away," Maf replied.

The captain swung himself off of his horse after strapping his spear to his horses saddle to keep it in place. The horse remained remarkably docile about such treatment and Maf's interest piqued. Such a fear was certainly an accomplishment.

With a steady gate the young man walked up to him and held out his hand. Maf grinned and took the offered hand in his abs both men shook.

"I am Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark. I bid you welcome, Outlander if the light," he greeted.

"I am known as Maf to many. What service may I render to you in return for not skewing me with your spear?"

Eomer smiled, "A service that requires discretion and rooting out the darkness in my home."

The wizard beamed. At least his time spent waiting would be time well spent.

"By all means lead the way, Third Marshal! And tell me all about this darkness plaguing your house," he replied.

Eomer turned to his stunned men calling for a horse. Maf watched him with hooded eyes. It hadn't taken much magic, but enough to ease away the least pleasant conversations in favor of a warm bed at night. Besides this little job sounded interesting.

* * *

Ailya's arrival in Arda had been uneventful. She appeared exactly where she wanted to be - away from a great multitude of people - and managed some time to herself carefully planning her entrance into this large city fortress built on the side of a mountain. Her sight improved tremendously after arriving. She knew it would. The sight was a shadow of the omniscience of the Triune and could only mimic it and not be it. Now she saw enough around her to know that she appeared far too early in the elven queen's time to chance running into her so early on. It would take several months for her to journey to this… Minas Tirith…

 _What a strange name! Though I suppose it has been a long time since the old days and there is much even I have forgotten. This world's has strong roots in those days. Clear strong roots, indeed. And the magic! A world created through song! Who would have ever thought?_ She considered.

No matter her feelings and interests. Entering the city was imperative if she was to gain a foothold in the Steward's house. Demurely Ailya reached into her pack and drew out plain clothes meant for older times. Her simple white dress was far too regal for these people to be able to stand. Once dressed differently Ailya wandered around the mountains and made for the gates. She reoriented her sight to expand her vision. The dark creatures before her and around her shook her very being. Whatever the Morrighan began it started close to here.

 _I will be needed in this city,_ she thought with certainty.

She moved like a shadow across the rocky terrain of the mountain. As she drew closer to the great city Ailya adopted a different gate. Her feet became less certain and she allowed herself to reach her left hand out to the side and seek feelers. Anyone who beheld her would see a blind elf down on her luck needing shelter. The closer she came to the city the more she allowed her blindness to be apparent, but not too much. She needed to seem disabled, but unimpaired by it. It had worked in the past and something told her that t would work again.

The wall loomed overhead. Before she could reach it and begin the process of acting as if she didn't know where the gate was avoids called down to her.

"You there! Who is it that approaches Minas Tirith?"

She looked into the direction of the voice. A young man. She seen flashes of him before, but had been unable to settle her sight on him for too long.

"An elf seeking a tempura home! I have traveled far and wide and this city is the first I happen upon!" She called.

"How do we know you are not of the enemy? Strange elves are about in these troubled time, Lady, and we cannot afford to be overrun from within," the guard said.

"Your caution does you credit, but I can assure you I am harmless. My sight is gone. All I have to recommend me are my skills as a healer," she said.

This always intrigued people. A blind healer? How did such a thing happen?

"How are you able to heal if you are blind?" The Guard asked.

"I listen!" She called in reply.

"Stay where you are and I will come and get you!"

Her sight saw him disappear from the edge of the wall. Ailya allowed herself a long drawn out breath before settling as comfortably as possible against the wall. Everyone needed healers. Such a thing did not change no matter the time or the world.

* * *

Professor Laurel Moruni had never known the Old World where the borders between time and space had relative meaning. From those who had survived the physics of such a world had been strange. Elves, angels, dragons, immortal Fae were able to pass between worlds at their leisure and populate the great expanse beyond. Science and wonder beyond anything the human race could ever hope to achieve quickly in the short lives they'd been given.

Then Heylel Ben Shachar began his rebellion and the war which followed devastated everything they'd built up to that point. Following that war access to such easy travel was no longer available to anyone with a fleshly body. The elves could do it, but only those with great power and control over that power. Certain conditions always had to be met. Laurel knew this as she had been the first elf in thousands upon thousands of years to actually cross worlds. She had first gone to Arda in those early days of travel and she had taken careful note of all that she had seen. Never once had she sought to make it public to others.

 _Yet the enemy has made contact with them all the same. Why? What has changed?_ She wondered gazing at her many bookshelves in the Boston house's study.

Artemis always reserved a place for her in every property she purchased for OLIMPUS Hunters. She extended this courtesy to all of the Eldar as she worked tirelessly with them to maintain as much peace and order as possible. The days were growing darker in that regard. The work of Ba'al had awakened many a dark thing from their thousand years of slumber. The Morrighan merely finished his work.

Laurel was the watcher of this New World. When she walked among the peoples she heard their whispers of joy, fear, pain and peace. Fear and pain replaced it all and a culture of violence, selfishness and conceit took root among the human populace. It leeched into elven, dwarven, dragon and fae society and turned people further into the clutches of the enemy.

 _And now the enemy has decided it needs help from another world. My apprentice alarmed them after what she did to their old leader,_ she thought and smiled.

Brianna's soul was damaged from everything that monster had put her through, but the justice she enacted upon him was far more satisfying than it should have been. Laurel hadn't quite brought herself to the point where she could ask Forgiveness for such feelings. It would pass in the end and her center would soon return.

The door to her study creaked open to reveal a slightly sheepish Loki. Laurel raised a brow in order to convey her irritation at being interrupted from her thoughts. The trickster took this as an invitation- many people did though she couldn't fathom why - and entered her space.

"Matt and I have begun the process of mapping out the preliminary preparations. Your council would be welcome," he said.

Laurel snorted, "No it won't! I hold the fifth under my breast. I don't need a great fanfare to do what I need to do."

Loki sniffed and replied, "Yes, I'm sure you don't need to think too much to cross over, but the rest of us cannot. I haven't done this since before Laurealasse was queen and Matt has never done this before. Help would be appreciated."

She sighed. The moment of reflection had clearly ended and Laurel rose from her chair and stood tall and broad across from the diminutive Loki. Sometimes it surprised her how short and thin he was in comparison to her.

"I'll do my best to advise you in the right direction," she said dryly.

The great expanse. Humans called it space and measured the distance of stars in light years. They didn't understand how shallow their scratch was when it came to delving into the science of space. It was their final frontier and the elves wild, unkempt woods untrodden for many ages. If only they knew that space was more than a vacuum. It was a wall that kept as many bad things out and in as it could. The enemy had torn several holes in it. They had pushed the elven Queen through it. It was imperative they work to fix all the terror these things were bound to cause. The great expanse. Space. The final frontier.

 _Damn humans and their Star Trek! It's almost as bad as Brianna quoting the litany against fear just to snuggly prove a point,_ Laurel thought and cast all others aside to focus on the task at hand and she entered the parlor.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **The Tasking of Lord Elrond**

 **Author's Note:** _This is basically one continuous scene. I thought about doing the Council in one chapter, but decided to break it up as it would take far too long to update this thing. As I wanted to get something in before the new year, this is it. Enjoy!_

* * *

Brianna woke the next morning feeling slightly disoriented. The previous night's singing echoed in her mind and she took her time dressing that morning. She spent an hour sitting before her window with the shutters thrown open and the wind dancing on the surface of her skin and playing with her loose hair strand by strand. Despite this wonderful morning her mind settled on what she would say at the pending council Lord Elrond wanted to gather. She sighed and felt the goodness of that early morning evaporate as quickly as it came. There were many things slated to go over that day with the ring baring the forefront of the conversation. Brianna's situation was to be discussed after they figured out what to do with the ring.

It wasn't that she never wanted to speak of the subject. It was needed, but it necessitated her revealing personal moments in her life that she rather have kept locked away from their knowledge. She had to explain Ba'al, or most of Ba'al, and the vendetta his former servants that remained had against her. She had to figure it how to explain Erebus and The Morrighan and the strange creatures the people of Arda was killing their livestock, children, and themselves. Then there were the knight elves, the raiphahim, and all the other things that her enemies could have brought over. She didn't even know why they were in Arda, but in Arda they were.

She finally moved to ready herself for the upcoming day around eight in the morning. The Council was a thing Lord Elrond had personally invited her to shortly after arriving in Imladris - the elven name for Rivendell - and Brianna didn't want to do him a discourtesy by being late. A smile graced her lips as she remembered that particular meeting. She hadn't been particularly kind to him that day. Once sleep came and went Brianna had been able to handle the conversation with the elven lord better and he managed to procure her a place on the Council.

The dress she chose for herself was one of the new ones Arwen had commissioned to be made for her. It was a simple royal blue gown that hugged her breasts and butt a little more than others she typically wore. The elves of Arda were clearly unfamiliar with curves, but endeavored to make an effort to accommodate. In the end the result was better than she expected, thought she wished they at least tried to take her measurements in the correct places. One elven maid who had entered to run a tape around Brianna's body had seemed incredibly unsure about what to do with the bust. Instructions of a sort were given - it had been a long time since Brianna had to see anything - and the maid had left looking increasingly uncertain.

 _I mean, really! Do elves not have large breasts and wide hips here?_ She wondered. _Do they never marry anyone but their own kind?_

On earth, once, inter species marriage had been seen as unacceptable by the wisdom of the Triune. It had been an earth long passed at the face of a star that had long since been destroyed and was reformed into what astronomers study so fiercely in the age she knew. In the new age - the age of man - the rules had changed. Brianna never thought why - it was a reality she always knew - and she could never help but to think on the different troubling aspects of elves, humans, fae and other races entering in matrimony with each other. Professor Moruni was an example as to how it could be both a benefit and a curse.

 _Even in the old world there had been death,_ she thought. _Why did it change? What lesson are the elves to learn?_

Landing in Arda and being able to spend time among elves who lived in another world gave her some perspective she never would have considered. In the old world there had not been death at the beginning. Death had come later upon the defiance and defection of Heylel Ben Shachar and a third of each heavenly race. The peoples of the stars (elves), the walkers (the sons and daughters of the earths), the shining ones (fae) and the children of Fire (dragons) had not known death for thousands upon thousands of years. The elders always retired, in the wisdom they gained, into the home of the Triune. The remnant that returned to the physical world at the recreation had regained their mostly immortal status, but were charged to protect the mortals of the earth. It was the creed of all elves to take an active interest in the lives of mortals and the ban on inter species marriage had been lifted.

Not all elves agreed with the sentiment and went their own ways. Arda, it seemed was a world where loving and marrying a mortal was mostly frowned upon. It was very much clear as far as she could see just how conserved they were about remaining apart from the mortal races.

Brianna considered Arwen while she slipped the thin chemise over her head and played with the hem as it danced with the surface of the floor. Arwen was tall and fair in skin and dark in hair with a pair of pretty crystal blue eyes that reminded Brianna of sapphires. She had a well defined bust and hips, but the difference between them wasn't lost on her. The elder elf's figure was still much thinner and more toned than anything Brianna could hope to accomplish as an elf maid. She was far too human-Esque to be considered a conventional elven beauty - even on earth.

No, Arwen, Lord Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan were the definite exceptions to the rule. Brianna, from a much more relaxed earth, was another.

Next she pulled the dress over herself and expertly began lacing up the back of her dress. It was loose work and probably didn't do much to hide her feminine figure, but Brianna had grown up in an era where women dressed in corsets and had always hated the feel of them.

 _I really need to have a few dresses and tunics and pants commissioned for myself to my comfort if Lord Elrond will let me,_ she thought though she had no idea when such a moment would happen.

The hem of the dress itself trailed behind her purposefully and made it impossible for her to walk without tripping. Brianna wasn't a klutz, she was quite sure on her feet in most situations (other than swamps and deserts), but this dress certainly did not allow for much movement in any way that wasn't careful and graceful. There wasn't much she could really do about it, so she moved on to her hair which she cleaned and brushed and tied back into an over the shoulder braid. With that final bit finished Brianna turned and left the room determined to find some sort of food.

Arwen met her in the hall as Brianna neared one of the smaller dining rooms. The dark haired elf smiled and practically glided to meet Brianna. She clasped the shorter elf's hands and leaned forward. Brianna raised an eyebrow.

"Good morning, Miss Davis!" The Lady chirped in a cheerful airy soprano.

Stunned by this display of joy Brianna stuttered, "Good, er, morning Arwen. What can I do for you?"

"My father wishes to meet with you for a bit before the council begins. He has set breakfast in his study and awaits you there," Arwen said.

"Now? So close to the time of the council?" Brianna asked increasingly stunned by the turn of events.

She was hoping for a few hours of peace instead of a morning of work and seriousness. Brianna cast the hall a wistful look and then nodded to Arwen.

"I suppose there is no helping it. Lead the way my cheerful friend. Why are you so today, anyway?" She asked as Arwen began to lead her down the hall.

Arwen smiled and her eyes glowed and sparkled with an innocent joy Brianna wished she'd had. On normal days she was pleasantly cheerful and always made a point to express pleasure in the conversation of others. There was a reason why Aragorn had met and loved her once.

 _There'a always a reason, I suppose,_ she thought sadly.

Alyan was Brianna's first love and his fate was met at the hands of Ba'al long before she'd ever manifested her magic. Judah had been her second as a love that had grown from decades of friendship and devotion. As with Alyan Judah had met the same fate with the same creature who Brianna proceeded to burn. Oh she had burned Ba'al for Allyson, her best friend, burned him for Alyan, and burned him for Judah. Then she ruled for a time to route out the bastards who betrayed and murdered her family in Ba'al's name. Once that was done Brianna left her throne to her cousin Landion to rule as regent, and set out to hunt down every remaining bastard who served as an ally for him.

 _And all of this has left me here, in Arda, following the daughter of an extraordinarily old elf to have breakfast with him and discuss whatever it is he wishes to before I give my story to the council,_ she thought.

They stopped just outside an archway that led into a series of rooms open to the elements beyond. Arwen turned to her and smiled.

"He's on the veranda outside of his study which is the fourth room on the right. To answer your question, Brianna, I have come upon a happy suspicion that may lead me into a joyful occasion some day, though I fear my father mourns it a bit," her face fell only a bit, but Brianna understood her meaning well enough.

 _Does this have to do with the 'secret' looks she and Glorfindel give each other when they thought the other not looking?_ She wondered.

"I hope it all works to the happiness of all," Brianna replied and turned to enter Lord Elrond's rooms at the the daughter's answering smile.

The rooms of Lord Elrond were immaculate, spacious and breezy. Light cloth curtains fluttered across the open archways in a few rooms while other rooms remained open to the valley beyond. Red leaves littered the floor of the hallway she tread down and Brianna found herself shaking some of them off the hem of her skirt and the toes of her feet. Furniture was sparse. There were a few chairs, a small writing desk, thin tables that housed even thinner vases, and one room she couldn't quite peer into.

It was a nice and peaceful set up, Brianna conceded, but it wasn't a place she'd choose to live in considering the terrain. The rooms were set to look more like a beech front and didn't fit with the mountain air at all. Lord Elrond sat where Arwen had indicated - within the fourth room on the right - staring into the rising morning.

Lord Elrond stood with his hands linked behind his back. At her appearance he inclined his head and indicated the chair across from his.

"Good morning, Miss Davis, I am pleased to see you this fine day. If you will have a seat we can begin," he said.

Brianna did so silently and inspected the spread before her. Cheese, bread, and some light fruit spread modestly across the table. Lord Elrond began to eat and she decided to follow suit. They ate in silence for a while which didn't serve to put Brianna at ease. Clearly the elf lord wished to engage in some sort of conversation he deemed important and she truly wished he'd stop with the veiled pleasantries and get on with it.

"My sons have given me reports recently that trouble my mind greatly in these dark days, Lady," He said, finally breaking his silence.

Brianna raised an eyebrow, but didn't venture a response. Lord Elrond didn't disappoint and he continued on in their discussion laying out everything his sons told him. Erebus, it seemed, had been plaguing the land's did quite some time. Monsters of days thought to be long passed - "of a time when one more powerful than the Dark Lord walked the earth" as Lord Elrond emphasized - hunted human, dwarf, and elf alike. Corpses were found on the roads drained of blood, or eaten with great jagged teeth, or completely grey from some other terror. Elves with milk white skin and red eyes tread the night with their curiously cruel counterparts who had skin as black as obsidian rock and eyes as yellow as burning fire.

"My people have been hunted by them with the same offer pressed to them as the next. All who survive report this enemy's wish for them to join them and give their souls over to sorcery. To our credit none have taken such an offer, but I fear with the impending darkness set to dawn these strange elves will seem more appealing," the elf lord said.

Brianna sat back in her chain, arms and legs crossed with food completely forgotten, digesting the reports consolidated in his narrative. Her lips pressed into a frown. The tip of her right index finger tapped against her pale skin. Lord Elrond paused in his narrative again to take a long draft of white wine.

 _This is worse than what I imagined it would be,_ she thought distressed.

"More darker times have I to tell. Seven days ago, just prior to your arrival, my daughter returned from the house of her grandmother in Lorien with word from a Lady Galadriel informing me of something far more sinister. There is a… disturbance in what she termed as 'the wall between the worlds' and that we of the three must inspect it and repair it if possible. I confess I know not what she means by this. The Lady has knowledge far greater than I as she is of the Eldar that came to Middle Earth from across the sea. However, I suspect what she said might have something to do with you which is why I asked for your company this morning," he explained.

Brianna sat as still as a statue. The wall between the worlds. She knew the theory behind it. Maf had written a book on the subject long after the end of the days when travel between worlds was possible. All before the paths were closed after the catastrophic flood that wiped out most of earth'a inhabitants save for a select few faithful to The Triune. Travel was still possible. Professor Moruni has done it after Maf's majority as had Loki, but only a few were able to cross at a time. Legions were unable to without tremendous help and that help typically came from nefarious means like…

Like the ritual of the Morrighan which brought her to Arda in the first place.

Abruptly she stood feeling as if she would be sick and walked out a ways onto the balcony. She could see where the waters of the valley met the green and the grey. Autumn leaves blew from various limbs on trees in their dying hues of red, orange and gold. A few swans played at the edge of the lake where a waterfall trickled from high cliffs above.

"You know something of this, I see," Lord Elrond stated.

"Unfortunately," she replied, "but I cant figure out what they're trying to do in regards to this. My enemies are invading your world. They want something from your dark Lord. Erebus made that perfectly clear."

"His aid perhaps?"

"Maybe."

Brianna turned to look at him once again and observed her counterpart's strained expression on his face. Her demeanor softened at the sight. It wasn't going to help them if she appeared too far out of her depth. As her professor said: "focus on what you do know, girl, and stop supposing or you won't accomplish anything."

"This Lady Galadriel, did she say anything else?" She asked.

"Only that someone should arrive to help heal the breech and that I was to send her to Lorien as soon as I see her. I'd known you arrived. Those of us who have lived this world long enough have felt it, but the Arwen had departed her grandmother's realm a month prior to your coming. She knew you would come, thus I must ask you for help in this matter of the wall. Will you go to Lorien?" He remained stoic despite his clear weariness, but Brianna detected a note of desperation in his voice.

 _Of course! Probably didn't want to suppose anything without me there,_ she thought irately.

It was the logical next step. She knew it was. If she had wanted to leave Arda somehow then journeying to this Lorien was the path she needed to choose. The sooner she left the better she would be. Those attachments she'd allowed herself to make would have to be severed and, once finished, Brianna could throw the rest of her enemies into a place where they couldn't get out.

 _I have my own meeting to attend, then,_ she thought.

There were rulers and authorities in Arda beyond the elves. Very few of any mortal existence could speak directly to them let alone order them about.

Brianna looked at Lord Elrond with a frown. He was eating once again seemingly calm, but each small bite told her what she needed to know. The elf Lord waited for her reply and was hoping she would help.

 _You are my responsibility just as the rest of Arda is,_ she thought hopelessly.

"This clearly needs to be where I need to go," she said finally.

Lord Elrond inclined his head and met her eyes. They, like many of the peoples in Arda, were blue. Brianna found that interesting, but decided against asking about it.

"This is good. We will bring this matter to a head at the council. We will see if any in attendance wish to accompany you. We have many matters to discuss in today, but I think yours will be the first," he said.

Brianna raised a brow, "What of the ring?"

"The ring is safe for now in Imladris. The matter of the wall between the worlds is a far serious matter that requires immediate attention. It must be resolved soon," he insisted.

Well she certainly wouldn't dare argue that. The sooner she could leave the better.

"Good! I will take my leave then, Lord Elrond," she said and walked passed his table toward the hall.

"Miss Davis, might I caution you this?" He asked.

Brianna froze and turned to him with one brow raised. Lord Elrond's expression didn't budge from its typical one.

"In what?" She asked.

"Do not suspect this task will be quick or easy. An impression was placed upon me the moment you arrived that you will not leave Arda for quite some time. It is possible you will not be able to return to your home," he said gravelly.

Brianna sighed and said, "With all due respect, Lord Elrond, I actually can leave Arda on my own."

 _Sort of…_ she thought.

She'd read Maf's book on the subject a long time ago and forgot more than she remembered. Theoretically she could return if she was careful, but there would certainly be a greater chance of her making a drastic error that could land her in the middle of a star, planetary core, or even a black hole.

"But," she added out loud, "my enemies helped create the mess you're in now. I must purge them from here no matter how long it takes."

Lord Elrond looked at her, expression unreadable, and Brianna wondered what he saw. What impression did he have? What did he really see? But Brianna didn't want to ask and Lord Elrond didn't seem to be forthcoming about it.

"The Council is at ten? I will head in that direction now," she said and left him.

Despite her self assuredness Brianna's heart pounded in her chest. Once she left his rooms she allowed a shudder to rise up the length of her spine. Lord Elrond reminded her of the Elders from her world. They liked to be enigmatic and act as if they knew more than others. In many cases such was typically the case. It was clear to her that Lord Elrond has tried to insinuate something more than he had. She had an inkling of what he might have been trying to get at. The moment of weakness displayed by her in regards to Aragorn the night before was still fresh in her memory.

She came across Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf moments later and smiled at them. Bilbo laughed and hurried to her.

"Ah! Here is our Elenumenien! Ready for the little council Lord Elrond has cooked up?" He asked.

Brianna raised an eyebrow and asked, "Elenumenien?"

Bilbo waved his hand with a chuckle, "I'm searching for a good name to call you. Elenumenien is a good one, but I fear it doesn't quite hit the spot."

Stunned she looked to Gandalf who merely shook his head. Beside him Frodo grinned and winked at her. Brianna returned her gaze to Bilbo and took his head.

"We'll think of something, but for now I think there are more pressing matters to attend to," she said.

Gandalf grumbled something Brianna chose not to register and their little group continued onward to the patio she and the hobbits visited a few days earlier. Lord Elrond was already there, though how that was Brianna couldn't divine. Others were also in attendance. Glorfindel sat close to Elrond looking troubled. Two dwarves, Gloin and his son Gimli, also sat equally as grave. She learned that several of the elves in attendance were part of Lord Elrond's councilors of whom one named Erestor was chief. A certain elf from a region below the Shire named Galdor sat with Erestor. He was darker skinned than the others as if the sun kissed it every day to settle it into a light tan. His build was strong, solid and reminded Brianna of a craftsman than a warrior. An elf clad in green sat a ways from them whom Elrond named as Legolas. He hailed from the east in a region known as Mirkwood as an emissary of Thranduil the elven king.

Brianna had to exert an extensive amount of self control to keep herself from scoffing at the notion. Elven king indeed! To the right, in a secluded corner, sat Aragorn. Their eyes met and she felt the smile spread across her lips before she could stop it. In return the corners of his lips twitched toward his eyes, but maintained their grave expression in the end.

Also seated a little apart from the rest was a tall fair haired human who looked as if to have only just arrived off the road. He was still clothed in a heavy fur-lined cloak with a bow, quiver of arrows, riding boots, sword and horn hanging from his belts. This man's eyes settled on her and seemed to start as if confused about something. After looking around a moment Brianna realized what the issue was. She was the only female among them.

"This is Boromir, a man come to us from the south in Gondor to seek council. I have hidden him to come and listen so that his questions may be answered," Lord Elrond said.

He guided Frodo and Bilbo to a seat beside him and directed Brianna to sit near the south lander. Boromir stood at her approach and bowed respectfully.

"Lady, it is a pleasure," he said.

 _He's courteous I'll give him that,_ she observed and smiled.

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," she replied.

With that she took her seat and the council began with reports from Lord Elrond'a advisors. They were what Brianna already knew thanks to her conversation with Aragorn the day before and her private meeting with Lord Elrond that early morning. The result of that first part was Brianna growing increasingly bored with old information. It wasn't until Gloin, the dwarf from what Bilbo has termed as "The Lonely Mountain" stepped forward and spoke of a curious meeting with a horseman from Mordor.

"This was about a year ago," Gloin said, "and with him was a strange elf with skin as pale as milk, hair like blood and eyes as black as the night above us."

Brianna woke from her bored stupor and leaned forward with no small interest. One year ago was when The Morrighan began her cycle of sacrificing around the world.

 _They'd made their first crossing a year ago,_ she surmised.

"The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship," Gloin continued. "Rings he would give for it, such as he gave of old. And he asked urgently concerning hobbits, of what kind they were, and where they dwelt. "For Sauron knows," said he, "that one of these was known to you on a time."At this we were greatly troubled, and we gave no answer. And then his fell voice was lowered, and he would have sweetened it if he could. "As a small token only of your friendship Sauron asks this," he said: "that you should find this thief," such was his word, "and get from him, willing or no, a little ring, the least of rings, that once he stole. It is but a trifle that Sauron fancies, and an earnest of your good will. Find it, and three rings that the Dwarf-sires possessed of old shall be returned to you, and the realm of Moria shall be yours for ever. Find only news of the thief, whether he still lives and where, and you shall have great reward and lasting friendship from the Lord. Refuse, and things will not seem so well. Do you refuse?" 'At that his breath came like the hiss of snakes, and all who stood by shuddered, but Dáin said: "I say neither yea nor nay. I must consider this message and what it means under its fair cloak." ' "Consider well, but not too long," said he. ' "The time of my thought is my own to spend," answered Dáin. ' "For the present," said he, and rode into the darkness. With the fell elf creature close behind him."

Brianna rested her shoulders on her knees and tapped her cheek with her forefinger. Erebus had been there. He was the knight elf notorious for having black eyes.

"Twice the messenger has returned to our gates for an answer and twice we have refused to answer. He has promised to return once again before the end of the year thus prompting my son and I to make this venture. We seek council in this matter and hope it will be a matter solved quickly," Gloin said.

Brianna could no longer contain herself and asked, "That elf, why was he with the rider?"

Gloin started and looked at her. Then he nodded once her question registered in his mind.

"He wished to offer a greater incentive than the return of our rings. He had with him crowns of gold and obsidian so dark I could see nothing reflected in the stone. Dain, wisely I suspect, refused them," he replied.

Brianna frowned and replied, "That was very wise. Thank you, Gloin, that's all I needed to know for now."

She sat back and listened as Lord Elrond spoke of the One Ring's history. It was a grave tale of treachery and power given and stolen by Sauron all painted in blanket detail. Then his expression became grave and the elf closed his eyes with a sigh.

"I remember well the splendour of their banners," he said. "It recalled to me the glory of the Elder Days and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains were assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken, and the Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever, and it was not so."

"You remember?" said Frodo, speaking his thought aloud in his astonishment. 'But I thought,' he stammered as Elrond turned towards him, "I thought that the fall of Gil-galad was a long age ago."

 _Oh lord! If Frodo ever meets the Professor he'd have a coronary,_ she thought bemused and glanced at the human Boromir who seemed equally in awe of Lord Elrond.

"So it was indeed," answered Elrond gravely. 'But my memory reaches back even to the Elder Days. Eärendil was my sire, who was born in Gondolin before its fall; and my mother was Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Lúthien of Doriath. I have seen three ages in the West of the world, and many defeats, and many fruitless victories. I was the herald of Gil-galad and marched with his host. I was at the Battle of Dagorlad before the Black Gate of Mordor, where we had the mastery: for the Spear of Gil-galad and the Sword of Elendil, Aeglos and Narsil, none could withstand. I beheld the last combat on the slopes of Orodruin, where Gil-galad died, and Elendil fell, and Narsil broke beneath him; but Sauron himself was overthrown, and Isildur cut the Ring from his hand with the hilt-shard of his father's sword, and took it for his own."

"That was the fate of the ring?" Boromir piped in, "Long have our people wondered at the outcome. The shadow of Mordor has not left us these long years and now the answer is revealed!"

Lord Elrond nodded, "Indeed, if only Isildur had not taken the ring, Sauron would have been destroyed and of diminished."

"By destroying the ring?" Brianna asked, guessing where the elder elf was going with this.

"Yes," Lord Elrond said, "in the fires of Orodruin, or Mount Doom as humans named it. But, Isildur did not and was later betrayed by the ring in battle. He died and the ring was lost for over two thousand years. In that time Sauron's power waxed and waned until it is now what it is and new allies have come to him, across the stars, to offer him whatever it is he wishes for the most in exchange for an unknown thing."

At that he looked at Brianna and she knew it was her turn to share with the group. She took that moment to close her eyes sand calm herself. What was prudent to tell?

 _Everything. I can't hold anything back. It would be unfair to them,_ she thought.

With a breath she opened her eyes and stood to meet their collective gazes.

"I suppose I should start with who I am as it is some motivation as to why my enemies are here," she began, "my true name is Aracasse ven Aldura, first of my name, High Queen of the elves. And my enemies are here most likely because they're trying to figure out a way to wipe out the royal line and take over the world."

Their collective expressions of shock would have been funny if the situation had been less serious. Legolas, the blond elf stood, and fell to his knees.

"Welcome to Arda, your grace, long have my people remembered the line of Aldura from the days when the elven queen walked among us. It lightens my heart to be the first of my people in the presence of one again," he said.

Brianna blinked and thought, _What?_


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **Fated**

 **Author's Note:** _As is clear here, I've decided to break up the Council of Elrond into three chapters. At least I hope it will be three. I originally intended for two, but with the nature of this rewrite I realized that many more characters would have more to contribute to the Consequences storyline as well as the normal LOTR_ one. This coupled with adding Brianna's story has made the chapter incredibly long. And she'd also not done speaking. She has yet to explain what she means by "the wall between the worlds" after all :)! _I read through this to look for continuity errors and errors for the spelling of names, but I'm sure I missed quite a bit. Anything that looks like it came directly from LOTR by JRR Tolkien is exactly that and I certain don't own it._

 _As an aside The Council of Elrond was always my least favorite chapter to write because there is always so much to cover in it that I lose patience when it isn't finished. But Enjoy!_

* * *

Aragorn has believed himself to be unshakable once upon a time, but that was before he began actively fighting the enemy. The Nazgul shook him. The appearance of Brianna unsettled him. Frodo's would had scared him. The clear attraction he held for Brianna unnerved him. Hearing her proclaim herself High Queen of the Elves brought all thoughts to a halt. She looked uncomfortable as she stared at Legolas. Aragorn was surprised. He'd never seen his friend kneel before his father, yet here he was on his knees before Brianna.

"I had not known one of my ancestors walked the lands of Arda once," she said.

There was a brittleness to her tone Aragorn hadn't heard from her before. To admit who and what she was placed her in a vulnerable position to be sure, but was it possible she was afraid of it as he was afraid of his heritage?

"The Queen Laurealasse once knew my father, King Thranduil of the Greenwood as the prince he once was," Legolas replied. "We owe your family a great boon in the conflict between our people and the dragons of the north."

She still seemed thrown. When she looked to him Aragorn saw it in her eyes. All fear he once had melted away and he wished to go to her and offer comfort and support. Wisely he held his seat, but did not look from her. Some tension left her and after a moment she returned her attention to Legolas.

"Rise, Legolas of the Greenwood, there's no need for formality here. It is a pleasure to meet one who knows of my ancestor," she said finally.

 _That is a half truth. She's not particularly pleased,_ he thought.

Legolas rose and returned to his seat, but Aragorn noticed an air of reverence in his gaze that hadn't been there before. The other elves seemed to hold the same opinions as they gazed at her with varying looks of awe and appraisal. Lord Elrond and Glorfindel seemed to be the only ones unsurprised by the revelation.

 _Did they know?_ He wondered.

Once the initial shock of the revelation died away. Brianna continued her narrative, "I was very young when my family was taken from the physical world. Their bodies were butchered, torn and desecrated by those who would see harm done to the elven royal line. We were betrayed from the inside by those we believed allies. As a result I, and a few others, are all that is left. I am the first born of the direct line and am the Queen. As elven Queen I have abilities many who seek power only dream of. The consequence of this is their lust for that same power as well as my throne. For many millennia my family has been hunted by these people for the purpose of gaining that very power and whatever else we could offer. So far, they have failed, but it seems as though they have concocted a new way of dealing with me though I'm not certain of their particulars nor can I guess who it is that enemies like the one Aragorn, Frodo and I met on the road travelling with the Black Riders cast their lot with. Sauron would never be recognized as their leader He is not from my world. I had thought I destroyed their leader on earth, but I have been since proved wrong and still cannot guess their plan. It involves Sauron and breaking through the… er… wall between our worlds. That wall has been damaged, I am told, and it must be prepared. By Lord Elrond's Council I must journey to a place that will enable me to do so safely, but Council from others will be most welcome. Either way this wall must be repaired and my enemies must be stopped from crossing over. Only then can I deal with the ones here."

Then she told of her coming into Arda. Aragorn listened as unfamiliar terms fell from her lips of places, things, people. As she spoke the light in her eyes dimmed somewhat and Aragorn wanted nothing more than to reach out to her and comfort her from the distress she clearly felt. When she was finished she slowly turned to her seat and lowered herself onto its sturdy wooden frame.

No one ventured to contribute. Aragorn wished to. His hands itches to reach out and enfold her into his arms, but he kept them at his side. He could do little but hopelessly watch as the rest of the council began whispering to themselves. Finally Lord Elrond turned to her.

"What do you know if the enemies who are here?" He asked.

"Very little," Brianna replied, "I know of one giving aid to your enemy. His name is Erebus, but as to his allegiances I don't know. The one he had once been sworn to is dead."

Aragorn didn't need to ask what happened to this particular dead enemy. The tilt of her lips told him enough.

"I may be of some assistance here," Boromir said and leaned forward.

Brianna looked at him as if she didn't quite know what to make of his presence before inching her chin into a barely perceptible nod. The man from Gondor stood and towered over her as most in the party would. Aragorn frowned at this. This Boromir seemed to be attempting to establish a dominance he hadn't quite deserved.

"A strange occurrence happened days before I left. A great shadow of terrible power erupted from the gates of Mordor. A black rider stride through the night and brought madness to the peoples. Following him was a power more sinister than I have ever seen. An armored elf with hair as black as night and skin like a specter rode forth from Mordor with a fell army behind him. That army…" Boromir countenance waned and he turned away from the rest of them.

Only Aragorn could see his face. It was pale with a sheen of sweat that broke out along his brow. Brianna stepped forward and laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder. She looked unsettled once again maybe more so than she had when Legolas dropped to his knees before her.

"What did the army do to your people, brave Lord?" She asked.

 _She knows,_ Aragorn thought, _she wants him to say it._

Boromir swallowed at turned to look meet her gaze. Aragorn, like the others, leaned forward in their seats with collective breaths held.

"Those creatures, Those once men, took my people, soldiers and innocents alike, and drained them of their blood. Some remained dead. Some rose the next evening and began to… bite and drink and rip our people to pieces," he confessed.

Aragorn sat limply back into his chair. What sort of power could bring the dead to life in such a way? One look at Brianna informed him she wasn't surprised by this turn of events. In fact she seemed angry.

"They're called vampires in my world," she said and there was a soft wrath in her tone Aragorn hadn't heard her use before. "Did That elf have a name? Has anyone ever heard it spoken before?"

Boromir seemed to consider his answer for a moment. He was likely just as stunned by her reaction as Aragorn was. Glorfindel and Elrond remained stoic as well, but a crease in their brow told him that they, too, were troubled.

"I believe the reports of one survivor said the creatures called him Prince Hades," he said finally.

Brianna's eyes narrowed, "Hades? Are you sure?"

"No, your grace, but I trust my men and such was their report. I have no reason to doubt it," Boromir replied.

"Do you know if this Hades?" Glorfindel asked.

Brianna nodded stiffly, "I am quite aware of him."

"What do you suppose is his purpose in allying with The Dark Lord?" Elrond asked.

"The same reason I gave you. He likely wishes to displace me from the throne and take it for himself," Brianna replied.

A thin, feral smile spread across her lips, but she didn't say anything more. She merely nodded to Boromir and thanked him for his help in the matter and then returned to her seat. She offered no more information about this Prince Hades.

Boromir did not return to his seat. Instead he looked at Lord Elrond and clasped his hands behind his back.

"If you will, may I speak further of my matter?" He asked.

Lord Elrond waved his hand, "If this was not all, continue."

As he told his tale Boromir began to pace the length of the council floor. Aragorn watched him for a while before turning his gaze to Brianna. She sat as still as a statue, her eyes closed, and lips pressed into a thin line. She was considering something and whatever it was did not settle well in her thoughts.

Boromir finished his small soliloquy about Gondor and continued with the matter he came for:

"The dead and fell elves are not the only things our enemy has made allies with. The Easterlings and the Cruel Haradrim have crossed our borders and have taken most of Ithilien! In June, the time your fell Hades made his appearance in the land, we were outnumbered and overrun by his forces! A power was there that we have not felt before. Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath. I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down behind us. Four only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and two others. But still we fight on, holding all the west shores of Anduin; and those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help. Only from Rohan now will any men ride to us when we call. 'In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond: a hundred and ten days I have journeyed all alone. But I do not seek allies in war. The might of Elrond is in wisdom not in weapons, it is said. I come to ask for counsel and the unravelling of hard words. For on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me. In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying:"

" _Seek for the Sword that was broken:_

 _In Imladris it dwells;_

 _There shall be counsels taken_

 _Stronger than Morgul-spells._

 _There shall be shown a token_

 _That Doom is near at hand,_

 _For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

 _And the Halfling forth shall stand."_

Aragorn frowned. The sword that was broken rested in the folds of his cloak. He glanced at Brianna. She crossed both arms and legs with a small frown on her lips. He watched her sadly.

 _Two secrets shall be revealed this day, it seems,_ he thought.

Boromir continued, "Of these words we could understand little, and we spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the lore of Gondor. This only would he say, that Imladris was of old the name among the Elves of a far northern dale, where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest of lore-masters. Therefore my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek for Imladris; but since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself. Loth was my father to give me leave, and long have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of which many had heard, but few knew where it lay."

Aragorn took this moment to stand and reach into the folds of his cloak where he kept Isildur's broken sword, "You come to Imladris to seek answers. You will find all that you seek here."

He threw the sword onto the table and unlaced it from the cloth that kept the pieces together. From the corner of his eye he saw Brianna solve the riddle in a blink. It was her turn to gape at him, teal eyes wide. A part of him was gratified that she was both impressed and astonished.

"Here is the blade that was broken!" Aragorn said and looked into the astonished gaze of Boromir.

"And who are you and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked.

"Oh bloody hell," Brianna muttered almost inaudibly.

Her remark almost made him smile.

"This is Aragorn, Son of Arathorn and heir to Isildur," Lord Elrond said.

Boromir's expression was caught between astonishment and disbelief. Aragorn stood waiting patiently for any sort of reply. It was Frodo who piped in first.

"Then it is yours and not mine!" He said and sprang forth from his seat.

Aragorn shook his head, "No, Frodo, it does not belong to either of us."

"It belongs in a fiery pit of molten lava," Brianna deadpanned, "I can make one for you if you'd like."

This conversation confused all those who didn't know about the ring. They leaned towards each other and whispered their mutual confusion. Lord Elrond, Gandalf and Glorfindel were of the few in attendance who knew the true subject of this meeting.

The wizard waved them all down, "Enough of this! The time has come! Frodo, bring out the ring and hold it up so Boromir can see."

Aragorn backed away from Boromir as Frodo stepped forward. The Hobbit's face was white as a sheet and his hands trembled as they reached into his coat to pull out the cursed golden trinket for all to see.

"The halfling," Boromir muttered, "but is there some doom to come to us at last. But why should I seek a broken sword?"

"Rally The people, Maybe?" Brianna piped in timelessly.

Aragorn glanced at her. She looked at Boromir as if he was the biggest idiot in her presence. He cleared his throat and she looked at him. Aragorn raised a dark brow in her direction and she in return. Her lips quirked.

"But I did not come here for military help, but to seek the meaning of a riddle," Boromir responded.

"And the meaning of the riddle is for you to bring back the sword along with the man who owns it which would happen to be the man standing in front of you this very moment," she responded sharply.

"I will admit," Boromir responded, "that the sword of Elendil would greatly aid us in these dark times if such a feat could be attempted."

At this moment Bilbo stirred and said:

" _All that is gold does not glitter,_

 _Not all those who wander are lost;_

 _The old that is strong does not wither,_

 _Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

 _From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

 _A light from the shadows shall spring;_

 _Renewed shall be blade that was broken:_

 _The crownless again shall be king."_

Aragorn felt his cheeks redden slightly as the last few words died into the late morning air. Bilbo has made that up for him upon their meeting many years ago. It always unsettled him a bit to be reminded of it. The prophetic utterance that it was made him wish he never had to think on the subject. Yet his old friend liked to remind him of what he was certain was fated. For he, Aragorn, to become the king of Gondor.

Despite this, Aragorn smiled at his little friend then he turned to Boromir again. The man was watching him with no small amount of doubt.

"For my part I forgive your doubt," he said. "Little do I resemble the figures of Elendil and Isildur as they stand carven in their majesty in the halls of Denethor. I am but the heir of Isildur, not Isildur himself. I have had a hard life and a long; and the leagues that lie between here and Gondor are a small part in the count of my journeys. I have crossed many mountains and many rivers, and trodden many plains, even into the far countries of Rhûn and Harad where the stars are strange. But my home, such as I have, is in the North. For here the heirs of Valandil have ever dwelt in long line unbroken from father unto son for many generations. Our days have darkened, and we have dwindled; but ever the Sword has passed to a new keeper. And this I will say to you, Boromir, ere I end. Lonely men are we, Rangers of the wild, hunters –but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy; for they are found in many places, not in Mordor only. If Gondor, Boromir, has been a stalwart tower, we have played another part. Many evil things there are that your strong walls and bright swords do not stay. You know little of the lands beyond your bounds. Peace and freedom, do you say? The North would have known them little but for us. Fear would have destroyed them. But when dark things come from the houseless hills, or creep from sunless woods, they fly from us. What roads would any dare to tread, what safety would there be in quiet lands, or in the homes of simple men at night, if the Dúnedain were asleep, or were all gone into the grave? And yet less thanks have we than you. Travellers scowl at us, and countrymen give us scornful names. "Strider" I am to one fat man who lives within a day's march of foes that would freeze his heart, or lay his little town in ruin, if he were not guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would not have it otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple they will be, and we must be secret to keep them so. That has been the task of my kindred, while the years have lengthened and the grass has grown. But now the world is changing once again. A new hour comes. Isildur's Bane is found. Battle is at hand. The Sword shall be reforged. I will come to Minas Tirith."

"Isildur's bane is found today, but I only see a bright little ring," Boromir said mistrust still evident in his voice.

He was clearly unsettled by this turn of news and Aragorn wondered at it. Did he find more than he originally wished to?

Brianna stood and nodded to Frodo, "Place the ring on that stone pallet, Frodo."

He did so, but seemed reluctant to do so. Brianna motioned for him to back away and she approached the stone and raised her right palm. It erupted to a ball of angry flames. Boromir gasped and stepped away from her. Other elves in their attendance leaned back in their chairs. She held her hand over the ring and pushed a pillar of that burning anger into it. Frodo winced, as if struck by something, and Aragorn felt concern for him.

After a minute the fire died and Brianna stepped away from it and motioned in its general direction, "That should have turned it into molten lava! Oh, and there are markings! Hadn't expected that, but this was a bit impromptu."

Gandalf snorted, "Such a display wasn't required, your grace."

"But necessary,"'she responded and waved her hand over it again, "there's no doubt now that it is a ring of power."

"But how has it passed through the years only to appear in the hands of so strange a messenger?" Boromir persisted.

"That shall be told,"said Elrond.

"But not yet, I beg, Master!" cried Bilbo. "Already the Sun is climbing to noon, and I feel the need of something to strengthen me."

"I had not named you, Master Bilbo, but I do so now. Come forward and tell us of how you came by the ring," Lord Elrond said.

Aragorn and Boromir took their seats. Brianna waited until Frodo retrieved the ring before returning to her own chair. She smiled at the hobbit who returned that smile with a weak one of his own.

"Very well," said the Hobbit, "I will tell this tale in its entirety. I must apologize to those who had heard a variation of it and ask that they forget it and forgive me. I had only wished to claim a treasure I viewed as mine and wipe the stain of the name thief from me."

And a tale he told with precision. Aragorn has heard variations of it, of course, and listened with growing astonishment as Bilbo recounted the journey from Hobbiton to The Lonely Mountain in the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Gloin looked the most interested in the bits Aragorn was certain Bilbo had glossed over, lies about, or never mentioned at all. When he was finished the council sat in silence for several long moments as they considered all that they had heard.

"Am I to understand that Arda has little to do with dragons?" Brianna asked.

"In this age, yes," Gandalf replied.

Aragorn wasn't the only one to cast curious glances at her. She stared at Bilbo thoughtfully with one forefinger pressed against the corner of her lips.

"Just curious," she said.

Frodo was called forth just then to give his version of events which included the unforeseen arrival of Brianna from the realm of Earth and the dealings with her enemies. Once finished he sat down once again and exchanged a few words with Bilbo. Then Gandalf was finally asked to speak and speak he did of past and recent tidings.

"At first I was lulled by the words of Saruman that the ring had long washed itself down the Anduin never to return. But then seventeen years ago I began to hold a suspicion of where the ring might be and I first set about in finding Gollum its last keeper. I commissioned the help of Aragorn and poured my heart on the matter into his confidence," Gandalf began.

"Aye, and I counseled we search for Gollum anyway despite how late the search would begin," Aragorn offered.

"Yes and we chased him through myth and rumor of the creature, but we never managed to find him. Then I thought of a test, a test that our elven Queen instinctually performed in your very presence. If the ring is tossed into flames markings would reveal themselves along its band - not so for the other rings. The nine, the seven and the three each had their proper gem, yet the one does not. With that thought I forsook the chase and passed swiftly into Gondor to begin researching the subject. Lord Denethor was less welcoming than he was of old, but he allowed me to search through the ancient texts and scrolls. He was quite certain I wouldn't find anything that Saruman had not already poured through. I did not completely reveal my task, but explained that I wished to research into the beginnings of the city. I will tell you now that I have, Indeed, found a treasure, Boromir. A scroll, unread by most save Saruman and myself, write. By the hand of Isildur," Gandalf said, "For he did not go straight north as once thought by so many."

"This we know," Boromir broke in, "those in the north may not, but all in Gondor heard told to them for generations that Isildur went to Minas Arnor before riding north. He placed his nephew on the throne of Anor and planted the last of the white trees in memory of his brother."

Brianna stirred again and interjected, "Its one thing to know something told through oral tradition later written down hundreds of years later. It's another thing to have direct historical confirmation to said oral tradition."

"And what would a queen know of these matters?" Boromir asked.

She smiled and clasped her hands in her lap, "I wasn't always a queen, my lord. In earlier days I did extensive study on history and the ways to differentiate said history from mere storytelling."

He bowed and Gandalf flared at them, "If you two are quite finished I shall continue my tale."

Without missing a moment Brianna imperiously waved her hand and then winked at the wizard. Gandalf grumbled something under his breath that Aragorn couldn't quite make out. It made Brianna chuckle just a bit.

"Isildur also made this scroll, Boromir, and I was able to read it. I have committed its contents to memory as it were and shall tell them to you presently:

" _The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but records of it shall be left in Gondor, where also dwell the heirs of Elendil, lest a time come when the memory of these great matters shall grow dim."_

"And after these words Isildur described the Ring, such as he found it.

" _It was hot when I first took it, hot as a glede, and my hand was scorched, so that I doubt if ever again I shall be free of the pain of it. Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it seemeth to shrink, though it loseth neither its beauty nor its shape. Already the writing upon it, which at first was as clear as red flame, fadeth and is now only barely to be read. It is fashioned in an elven-script of Eregion, for they have no letters in Mordor for such subtle work; but the language is unknown to me. I deem it to be a tongue of the Black Land, since it is foul and uncouth. What evil it saith I do not know; but I trace here a copy of it, lest it fade beyond recall. The Ring misseth, maybe, the heat of Sauron's hand, which was black and yet burned like fire, and so Gil-galad was destroyed; and maybe were the gold made hot again, the writing would be refreshed. But for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain."_

"Once I read this my quest was over and I took my leave of Denethor and journeyed north. As I did so news from the north came to me from Aragorn that he found the wretched creature, Gollum. I went first there to meet him and hear his tale, though through what dangers Aragorn went through to fetch this creature I could not say," Gandalf said.

All eyes shifted to Aragorn and they waited for him to continue the tale. For his part he wished he need not have bothered, but the necessity of it was there.

"I had journeyed close to Mordor and was met with the dangers of doing so though not one fiend from the Black Gate, outworlder or no, saw me and knew my name. This was the first occasion I, myself, beheld these vampires and a myriad of other foul beasts. I confess to have erroneously thought them of Sauron and did not think to report them at the time," he cast an apologetic look to Brianna, "but I, too, despaired of finding Gollum and journeyed homeward. Yet, luck did I have for I discovered him in a muddy pool just outside of the Dead Marshes. There I apprehended him and stole him away to Mirkwood and Thranduil's court for safe keeping. Gandalf came shortly after and had long words with him."

"Long Words they were," said the old wizard, "long and weary, but not without profit. For one, the tale he told of losing the ring agrees with that which Bilbo has now told openly for the first time; but that mattered little, since I had already guessed it. But I learned then first that Gollum's ring came out of the Great River nigh to the Gladden Fields. And I learned also that he had possessed it long. Many lives of his small kind. The power of the ring had lengthened his years far beyond their span; but that power only the Great Rings wield. 'And if that is not proof enough, Galdor, there is the other test that I spoke of. Upon this very ring which you have here seen held aloft, round and unadorned, the letters that Isildur reported may still be read, if one has the strength of will to set the golden thing in the fire a while. That I have done, and this I have read: Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."

Those words left Aragorn disquieted as well as the rest of those in attendance. Even Brianna looked alarmed but also contemplative. She leaned forward and Gandalf looked at her eyes raised. They didn't speak like he expected them to; however, and continued to stare at each other in silence. By a twitch of a brow, a stirring of a hand, and finally a quirk of Gandalf's mouth Aragorn understood it. Brianna had questions she wanted answering, but didn't wish to voice aloud with others in the room. She resorted to asking in Gandalf's own mind.

 _What stranger things will I discover the longer she remains among us?_ Aragorn wondered.

"The words of Mordor have never been spoken in the halls of Imladris, Mithrandir," Lord Elrond said barely concealing his disquiet.

"I know," Gandalf replied as if waking from a trance.

Aragorn observed Brianna and noted she looked far more concerned than she had at first. She glanced at Frodo, looked as if to speak, then glanced away again as if deciding not to.

"Let us hope I will never need to again, but I do not beg pardon for this. I will; however, translate them for those present: One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."

Aragorn felt a chill run through his veins. Such intent was there long ago, it seemed. One could almost wonder if the rings, even the elven rings not forged by Sauron, had been intended to one day feed the power of the One. If that was such the case then what did it mean for them?

"Know also, my friends," Gandalf continued. "that I learned more yet from Gollum. He was loth to speak and his tale was unclear, but it is beyond all doubt that he went to Mordor, and there all that he knew was forced from him. Thus the Enemy knows now that the One is found, that it was long in the Shire; and since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, he soon will know, already he may know, even as I speak, that we have it here."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **The Making of Fellowships**

 _ **Author's note:** I'm really proud of myself right now. I've managed to update this story quickly this month. I think that has a lot to do with the fact that I want to get my characters out of Rivendell. I did a chapter count. It's beem about six chapters of Rivendell and I'm still not done with it! Ugh! So much Rivendell! But it's important! You'll see why at the end of the chapter! Enjoy!_

* * *

Brianna vaguely listened to Gandalf's tale soon after that particular revelation. It made sense for their enemies to know where the ring was. Gollum, whatever sort of sad being he was, likely told enough to cause harm; especially if the enemy orchestrated his escape from Mirkwood as the elf Legolas elaborated on such a short time ago. Stiff as a board Brianna listened gravely at each grim detail. She wanted to scream. Hades? Here? How? He was supposed to be locked away in the seventh gate of hell where her great grandmother put him! Who released him from this prison and why? What did he have to gain in this?

"Word came to me from a Radagast the Brown That Saruman offered his aid, but only if I hastened to his presence at once. I did so, hoping he could help me in regaining some semblance of hope in these troubling times. Oh how wrong I was! Saruman spent a good time declaiming Radagast as a foolish idiot! Then he stood before me to give a choice. Do I join the powers, do I completely deny them, or do I join Saruman in taking the One Ring for ourselves. I chose the second and in came a terrible queen of wild beauty such as none have seen on Middle Earth. Saruman named her Queen Mab of the Faerie Court," Gandalf looked at her and Brianna felt her blood run cold again.

Mab was in Arda with Hades. She could guess, very accurately, how that turn of events happened. She nodded for him to continue.

"The Queen wished to perform fell magicks to turn me to their cause," Gandalf continued, "but Saruman wished me to suffer and see, so they took me and set me on the pinnacle of Orthanc. I was there for a long time. Now, they did not expect Radagast to do as I asked - send out his animal friends and have them spy on the enemy for us - and as the summer waned so did Gwaihir come unbidden to Orthanc seeming mine and Sauruman's Council. Those strange creatures of Mab's attempted to attack him, but the great eagle is far more cunning than they and soon I was born away from Orthanc to safety - such as what is now considered safe. He set me down in Rohan and it was from there I journeyed here to arrive two days before the little party from Bree and their surprise visitor."

Brianna shifted in her chair but couldn't find it in her heart to contribute anything. Erebus. Hades. Queen Mab. Their names cycled through her thoughts like a turning wheel. All the evils of old gathered in Arda, so it seemed, to do what? Help Sauron find his ring? There had to be something more to the story than that!

As she thought on this the subject of a Bombadil came up as the males argued whether it was best to send the ring to him for safe-keeping. Brianna listened as they spoke of this man with Glorfindel coming to the staunch position that this Bombadil couldn't resist Sauron if all else failed.

"Could we send the Ring to the elven queen's world?" Asked an elf named Galdor.

This proposal started Brianna out of her thoughts and she glanced sharply at the elf. He was thousands of years old with knowledge limited to Arda. He was ignorant, but not foolish.

 _Best to crush their hope early,_ she thought.

"No," she replied shortly, "not counting humans, I can think of several elves, fae, angels, and dragons would would absolutely love getting their hands on it. And a few would have no trouble conquering the will of the ring and setting its power against us. I could fight it, I could probably decimate them if the need arose, but I would die and destroy everything in my way in the process. Even the great elven Queen has checks on her powers and mine come from a place higher authority than myself."

They stared at her. Some seemed alarmed while others only disappointed at her refusal. She wouldn't move on that decision; however and stared straight ahead before settling her gaze on Aragorn. He inclined his head to communicate agreement.

"The Ring is our affair," he said, "it would be cowardly of us to inflict its blight upon others even if Dark fiends of their world have gotten it into their heads to inflict themselves upon us," he said.

"If they are all here, then maybe we can use this as a way to break the powers of Sauron and this Hades?" Suggested Gloin.

Brianna but the inside of her cheek. She didn't want to censure them on this one. There had been days in her youth when she said the exact same thing. Her great-grandmother hadn't been able to fully break the power of Hades. She hadn't been allowed and all she could do was lock him into whatever cage in Hell she's wrought. Brianna wasn't sure how she'd done it. Loth Galine had not been her most dire element to learn at the time. The other four took precedence.

 _Maybe I'll burn the bastard. Athena was never the best at fire. Her best element was always Earth and water,_ she considered.

"That could work if we prepare," she replied. "But if there is anyone here who will deal with Hades and Mab it will be me. Maybe one of you who are older and Gandalf as well could stop him, perhaps even kill him, but as all of you are vital to this affair of the ring I don't think it's best to tempt fate."

Glorfindel stood and bowed, "As a matter of course, your grace, I am not as instrumental in this task as you may think. I have a duty to protect this realm from all evil. This Hades and Mab are an evil that has invaded our world. I cannot overlook their presence. If you require aid then I will gladly give it."

Brianna looked at him with a renewed opinion. There were, it appeared, some who knew of, or remembered, the purpose of their existence. She nodded to him feeling more like she was acting the queen than actually being one.

 _I'm a huntress, an archaeologist, and an elleth. I have yet to discover this queen I'm supposed to be,_ she thought sadly.

"I will consider it further, but let us decide what to do about this ridiculous trinket first, shall we?" She asked.

Brianna looked at Gloin once more, "In answer to your question, Gloin, I intend to do just that. Hades has a target on his head. I'll be sure to hit it."

She sounded more bloodthirsty than she meant to, but Hades has been a blight on her family for so long that she was more than ready to get rid of him. Gloin seemed pleased with the idea and laughed.

"Well, I certainly look forward to hearing that tale once it's told, Miss," he said cheerfully.

Brianna smiled; especially at the scandalized looks on the elves when Gloin referred to her as a "miss". It was always good to give them a bit of a shock just to keep their long lives interesting.

Glorfindel took this moment to bring the conversation back to the subject of the ring. He cleared is throat which made Brianna and Bilbo glanced at him incredulously and stood again. This time he turned to address Lord Elrond.

"What of the sea? Surely we could hide it in the great deeps?" Glorfindel asked.

Brianna snorted in a most unqueenly manner. If only Matt were present! He'd explain tides in a most confusing manner to them.

Erestor, one of the elves from the Grey Havens, seemed to agree, "The sea would still only be a temporary solution. Even so the road is likely watched for the elves flee for the west daily. They would expect it to be sent this way. Another road must be considered."

"As we cannot take it west, nor can we hide it in another world entirely, there is only one option that remains open to us. We must unmake the ring. It must go east to be cast into the fire into Mordor," said Lord Elrond.

Silence met his proclamation. Most seemed too stunned and dismayed to wish to consider the prospect. For Brianna it seemed more like a chance to solve a particularly interesting riddle. She crossed her arms casually and leaned into the back of her chair. Such a feat would be difficult, but not impossible. There were probably ways into Mordor that wouldn't involve everyone dying.

Next to her the traveler Boromir stirred and fingered his great horn. A frown marred his clearly handsome features and Brianna found herself studying him closely. He was handsome for a human, but there was a boldness to his self that struck Brianna a little too close to home. He was foolhardy and willing to cast aside caution in favor of the quickest way to defeat an opponent. She knew his type. She'd been his type until her mistakes cost the deaths of others close to her.

"This is folly! I understand Saruman to be a traitor to our cause, but I suspect he had the right mind. Why not use this ring against the Dark Lord and all those who give him aid?" He asked.

Brianna frowned and considered the question. She knew it was foolish, but did he? What did humans know about magical artifacts made from the essences of their creators. With every Dark thought and fell deed pressed into it the ring was created to have a mind of its own. A cursed object made to curse others and cause them to turn to darkness and greed. The concept wasn't new to her. She was a Huntress. She sought these things out purposefully so she could destroy them. Had this Boromir ever done so? Had anyone in the council done so? Probably not.

"Nay, it is folly. The ring obeys Sauron alone and will answer to no other master. As such it will corrupt the hearts of those who wield it. I would not take the ring to hide it, young steward, and I am afraid to take the ring to wield it," Lord Elrond admonished gently.

Boromir turned to her, "And you?"

Brianna shrugged, "I don't need it to stop Sauron, but my magic would not respond to it. What would happen more than likely is that I would try to use it and destroy it and myself as I did. I am not the best to wield it, carry it, or hide it. In light of the last two I am more like this Bombadil and would lose it or throw it away. It must be destroyed."

He bowed his head and conceded their arguments, "Then let us hope that the sword that was broken will ride in and restore morale."

"We shall put it to the test one day," Aragorn promised.

"Let us hope we do not delay too long," Boromir grumbled.

They spoke more at length about ring lore that Brianna only half listened to. The conundrum of Hades, Erebus, and Queen Mab refused to leave the forefront of her mind. It was too pressing of a matter to ignore.

 _They speak of rings, but my task will spell the fate of their world,_ she thought sadly. _Such is the fate of the elven queen - keeper of all realms._

Bilbo stood clearly irate by the talk and in need of action, "Very well, Very well! It is clear to me what must be done and that I am the one to do it! I shall take the ring to Mordor! I started this mess, it is only fitting that I should finish it."

Gandalf smiled, "Think not of it, Master Bilbo! The ring has passed on and you need not complete this task. I fear it may be beyond you. I advise you remain here, in Imladris, and finish your book and write a sequel for when _they_ come back."

Bilbo seemed caught between relief and surprise, "Well this is certainly an interesting turn of events. Never once have I had the pleasure of you giving me pleasant advice before! I don't suppose I have the strength or will to deal with the ring, but who are this _they_ you speak of?"

Brianna looked at Gandalf with a frown. It seemed the fate of the ring had already been decided between him and Elrond. Just as her fate had been decided on in that early morning before the council.

 _This was a formality to bring the thoughts of the others into a like mind. Gandalf and Elrond already knew what had to be done! Sneaky bastards,_ she thought.

"The _they_ I speak of are the messengers who will be sent to Mordor," Gandalf said.

"Oh, good, now shall we begin naming names or am I to miss the noon meal?" Bilbo asked.

No one answered. Brianna watched each of them grimly. She couldn't volunteer for a number of reasons with the primary one being that she needed to go on a different quest. Finally, it was Frodo who stood and turned to them all. He met Brianna's eyes and she nodded to him.

"I will take the ring to Mordor," Frodo said, "but I do not know the way."

Elrond raised his eyes and looked at him, "If I understand aright all that I have heard I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck? But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right; and though all the mighty Elf-friends of old, Hador, and Húrin, and Túrin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them."

 _Lord Elrond the wind-bag,_ Brianna thought, _that is what he should be called for talk he certainly does and manages to take forever to get to the bloody point._

A scuffle was heard and to everyone's surprise Sam jumped up from a corner he'd sequestered himself in and hurried over to Frodo. Brianna raised a brow. How on earth had he stayed so well concealed?

"But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" Cried Sam.

"No indeed!" said Elrond, turning towards him with a smile. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Sam sat down, blushing and muttering. "A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!"

Brianna smiled and refrained from snickering as she normally would have among her team. She was supposed to at least act like a queen, after all. Once the muttering died down Elrond stood once more.

"Now That the date of the ring is decided we must consider Brianna. I received word from the Lady Galadriel of Lorien yesterday. She has an understanding of the elven Queen's coming and also understands the plight that has effected our world. Further, she has suggested that the best way to solve this conundrum is to journey to Lorien. There the Lady if the Wood will be able to help right this wrong so that stability can return to Arda," Elrond said. "Such knowledge is beyond anything I understand, but the Lady of the Wood knows more. Together, she and the elven queen can at the least repair the damage to the veil between our worlds."

Brianna nodded, "It was decided that I would go to Lorien, but as I do not know the way a guide would be most welcome."

Glorfindel stood and stepped forward. He kneeled before her and Brianna had to keep herself from blushing an embarrassed shade of crimson. Technically they were her subjects, but it always made her uneasy when one of the older elves showed her any sort of reverence.

"Allow me to be your guide, your grace, and I shall be certain to bring you safely to Lorien," he swore.

From the corner of her eye she saw Lord Elrond frown at this. Brianna looked at the Elder elf and observed his sincere eyes. If this was his inclination then what did it mean for Arwen? Glorfindel was close to swearing himself into her service and if he did that then Arwen would follow him wherever Brianna ended up going.

 _Fifteen hundred years is a long time for a father to have the presence of a daughter,_ she thought sadly.

"You will guide me then, Lord Glorfindel. I accept your offer of aid," she said.

"And two others will accompany you I should think," Gandalf added, "there are dangers on the road that will make it dangerous for two elves to travel safely even if they are two of the most powerful people in the room."

Glorfindel rose with a chuckle, "I will accept it if her grace does."

"I do," Brianna said, "if I don't have to sleep with my eye open half the time I won't complain."

"Then we are settled," Lord Elrond said. "This concludes our council."

* * *

Erebus stood before Queen Mab and Saruman as the two of them circled the Palantir. It was a strange little globe that was supposed to enable them to communicate with Lord Sauron and, consequently, Prince Hades and Prince Aries. He glanced to Persephone who stood next to him looking just as frail and embittered as ever. She never took well to the conversion as the others had. All traces of beauty, charm and innocence had been leeched from her mind and body. Hades had certainly done his work.

 _What did he say to convince her to go the path of the crone?_ Erebus wondered.

"We do not know who has the ring," Queen Mab said.

"No we do not," Saruman confirmed.

"And the elven queen is still in Imladris?" Queen Mab asked and looked to him.

Erebus inclined his head. The faerie Queen was a demanding person. It was best to give her what she wanted until something interesting could be done about her.

"According to the Nine," he confirmed. "She road into Rivendell with that hobbit the Witch King stabbed, but we have been unable to confirm anything else. One of the Rangers - I believe they call him Strider - hunted down our agents around the land and exterminated them."

Saruman grunted and Mab raised a delicate white brow. She stepped toward him. Erebus didn't move. In the thousands of years of his existence none of the Dark Faye or the Raiphahim had ever intimidated him. He met her gaze with his own steady one and waited for her to attempt to rage at him.

She did not disappoint.

"And where were you, Lord of Darkness?" She asked in a low husky tone that could be easily mistaken for a seductive lilt.

Erebus has to give it to her. She was very good at establishing a verbal hierarchy. He smirked and leaned towards her ever so slightly.

"I was helping the Nine regroup. They weren't expecting the attack. When I returned to Imladris' borders any progress we made against the elf lord's protective line was erased completely. The Queen has added whatever protection she could think of. We will not get through any time soon," Erebus wondered if any of them would take his report to heart.

Queen Mab sneered and turned from him in a rush. On the other side of the room Persephone cackled to herself. The Faye Queen whirled on her, face contorted with rage, and allowed an only darkness to crawl across her hands. The misshapen elf began to cackle in earnest. Erebus shook his head and glanced to Saruman who sidled next to him with a frown on his face.

"Tell me, what should we do in this stage?" The wizard asked.

"Planning, regrouping, and striking. Queen Aracasse is the only adversary in Arda so far. If we don't prepare our forces and begin taking out the leaders of the lands she will find a way to destroy all of our plans. She likely already knows about the breaks we made in the space/time plane separating your galaxy from ours. It will be the first thing she goes after," Erebus said.

"Can she repair it?" Saruman asked.

There was a sense of dread and awe in his voice. Erebus frowned at it though he couldn't blame the wizard for holding an interest in what the elven queen could do. Even when she was just Brianna Davis with little magic to her name she was formidable. That kind of hers alone has foiled more than one attempt to raise Aries though she hadn't known it at the time. To know so little, yet guess so well… it was attractive.

"If she figures out how magic works here in Arda then yes she will," Erebus said bluntly.

"Good, then we have a goodly amount of time to decide which portal we will reinforce," Saruman said and returned to his palantir.

Erebus chuckled to himself as the old man left. Saruman proved to be more useful than he originally had been. By this point Mab had finished her argument with a smug Persephone and returned to the wizard's side. They began to converse in hushed tones. Erebus didn't care to attempt to overhear them. He had better things to occupy his mind with. The valiant attempt to separate himself from the quiet mutterings was foiled by Persephone's approach. She sent him a toothy grin. Erebus' eye drew to her missing, fouled, teeth. The gigantic warts on her face looked near bursting and one that had smelled sickly sweet. He wrinkled his nose. The pungent odor invaded his elven senses. How could she, who was also an elf, stand it?

"You should look for her in a month," she told him in a broken voice.

Erebus bows rose, "A month?"

"She will be in the road again. I have seen it. Look for her in a month once she crosses the mountains. It will be easier then," Persephone told him and limped away.

 _Well, I'm certainly not going to begrudge her help,_ he thought and then resigned himself to the presence of Mab and Saruman for the rest of the day.

* * *

Brianna hadn't prepared herself to deal with a person wracked with nerves. After the council she had left alone and wandered into the gardens to keep her own council. She had much to think about and plan and get over. The baring of her personal past was hard. It wasn't much, she hadn't been completely specific, but it still had been difficult. Unfortunately she hadn't much time to her thoughts when Arwen rushed down the path looking incredibly high strung.

Stunned all Brianna could do was remove herself from her inner dialogue and listen to what the elf lady had to say. Arwen fell to her knees and grasped Brianna's hands. To say she was stunned by the move would have been putting it mildly, but the plea from her a moment later pushed her beyond even that.

"Please let me come with you!" Arwen breathed. "He and I cannot he parted! I can't see him go from me again in these times! I will not remain in seclusion any longer so that the men may fight my battle! I must come with you!"

 _Oh, Glorfindel! Right! Good god how do I answer this?_ Brianna wondered.

She looked at Arwen. The elf maiden was typically tall, composed, and beautiful. It seemed that the task Glorfindel had volunteered himself for had unsettled.

"Arwen, I think you might need to bring this to the attention of your father," she said in an attempt to calm her.

It didn't work. Arwen just shook her head and went on. "No! If he does not think you wish for me to come then he will not give his permission. I heard he and my brothers speaking earlier and they will go. I can't let my beloved go on this quest without me! I have remained idle too long in my father and grandmother's house far too long! I told him I would go where he went. If he is to Lorien then so am I."

Brianna sighed. She understood. Glorfindel and Arwen's engagement was new. Lord Elrond has likely given his blessing reluctantly with a condition for Glorfindel to prove himself. To Arwen this could seem too much like her ancestors Beren and Luthien.

 _And I couldn't bear being parted from Alyan or Judah and then came the day when I was. I hadn't even known about Alyan until they brought back his mutilated body with Ba'al disgusting message to accompany it. Arwen fears this, or something like it, and I understand,_ she thought.

There was no other choice she could make. Arwen was going to come whether she wanted the elf to or not. Brianna couldn't come up with a good enough explanation as to why she shouldn't. Arwen was coming and that was that.

"Speak with you father, tell him you wish to volunteer and I will speak with him on the objections," Brianna conceded. "But you and I are going to meet in the training grounds so we can test your skill. I know Glorfindel's, Aragorn can vouch for Elrohir and Elladen's, but I haven't heard about yours. We will begin at dawn."

Arwen thanked her profusely and stood. The discomfort was there, but Brianna saw the elf maid fight to resume control over herself. Then she walked away. Once Arwen was out of sight Brianna slumped against the back of her bench and released a long, drawn out, sigh. Like it or not it looked as if she would have look after two love birds. It would make the trip awkward if they didn't control themselves physically and mentally, but maybe they would be fine?

"That was courteous."

She glanced to the left where Aragorn tread down a thin path obscured by arches and hanging vines. Brianna didn't move from her completely relaxed state. Even though she knew he liked her and she, him, there was a basic need to feel comforted by him as well as relaxed. Aragorn sat next to her with a careful distance kept between them. She smiled and sat up from the bench's back.

"I know how she feels. I've had the misfortune of being parted from two men that I loved for an extended period of time. The result of that separation…" she paused and looked into his eyes. "They are no longer alive."

He took her hand in his gaze never once breaking. His eyes reflected a fear, a small fear, within that nearly melted her heart.

"They should be together. You can give them what you never had. Arwen is not as skilled as her brothers, but she is well-versed in the martial arts enough," he reassured.

Brianna squeezed his hand and resisted the urge to lean into him. This reminded her of Judah, the same urge and need to be near him, think of him, and protect him. Yet it wasn't. It was magnified to something beyond her comprehension as if every emotion she once felt for others was magnified for him.

"I hope it will be an uneventful journey for us, but I know it likely won't be. I need to prepare all of them for it," she said.

"And you will, of that I have no doubt," he said. "As for myself, I have been called north for a scouting party. I know not if I will return before you leave."

Her mouth went dry. Aragorn was leaving? She realized her hands suddenly clutched his own in a hard grip and Brianna released it to allow her fingers and palms to rest lightly in his. For a moment Brianna hoped Aragorn hadn't felt her spasm of fear, but the softening of his gaze told her that he had.

"I leave on the last day of November. It is still October. You might return by then and I will hope for it if it pleases you," she admitted.

Aragorn's eyes lit brightly and his hands began to shake. A smile played on his lips and he brought her hands to his lips to leave light kisses on her knuckles. Her lips parted as awe overcame her. This man felt deeply, more deeply than she first thought, and he did actually show moments of passion. To her no less!

 _What am I doing? We are from two different worlds! I can't allow this to continue!_ She thought.

Maybe it was why? There was attraction and genuine like between the two of them. One day she would be gone whether it be three months or many years from then. She swallowed.

"It pleases me, very much, Aracasse," he breathed.

Her name, his use of her true name, unsettled her further. It was a deliberate use, a promise, of something greater that would be discussed one day should they be allowed. They wouldn't be. There was no possible way for it to happen! Unless it did and then what?

Aragorn stood, but looked at her as if drinking in her very image. Brianna felt the same. It could be the last time they ever saw each other. He might not return before she left for Lorien. She very well could be parted from him forever in order to fight back Mab and Hades then to later return to Earth to formally take the elven throne - again - and rule her people.

"I will take my leave. I will depart for the north in the early morning," he said.

 _And it appears that I will be there to send you off,_ she thought, resigned.

"Be safe, Estel," she said softly.

He seemed surprised for a moment, but a true smile broke across his face a moment later. To see it sent a wave of feeling pulse through her body in violent waves. Aragorn didn't say anything else and departed with a bow. Once she was certain he was gone and she was alone Brianna stood from the bench and ran out of the gardens for a more private location.

There was a good deal much to think on.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Undomiel**

 **Author's note:** _I was going to update this story last month, I swear, but life happened and other novels called to me. They begged for me to write them, plan them, and outline them and I just had to answer their call. Anyway, here's chapter 14. I hope to update with chapter 15 by the end of the month, but it might not happen until next month._

 _Anyway! Enjoy!_

* * *

Aragorn woke early the next morning feeling less crushed by the weight of the world and its responsibilities and more hopeful. His things were packed from the night before tucked away into two duffle bags. His sword, bow and arrows rested near them. Carefully he walked to a chest at the edge of his bed and drew out the meticulously wrapped sword shards of Narsil. A sword of kings, history, and fate proclaimed in a vision shown to the first son of a steward. It was a vision that sealed Aragorn's path - one he hadn't intended to embark upon.

He closed his eyes and held the cloth covered shards lightly against his chest. To behold one's fate was difficult. The idea of him ruling Gondor somehow - a land he hadn't ventured into for some time - brought a heaviness to his heart that was beyond anything he felt before. It spoke to the possibility of his never seeing the bright, beautiful face that was Brianna for the remainder of his days.

She was Elven Queen, Aracasse ven Aldura, and not Brianna Davis. Her duty was ultimately to her people and she needed to be returned to them as soon as possible. The quest she was slated to take had to end with her leaving Arda. He had to remember that. A queen without her people, a people without their Queen, for too long would spell folly on any kingdom. He couldn't ask that of her, to leave them for a while, watch him die, and then return to her world later on.

 _Must that happen this way?_ He wondered. _I am not as chained to this mortal life as one would assume. I am a descendent of Beren and Luthien._

Was it possible? What would it mean for Gondor and his children if he were to wait until one son or daughter was ready to take the crown before abdicating? Could he leave Arda for Brianna's world? Was it a possible path?

He set the shards upon the floor before his grip broke through the fabric and into the blade. Aragorn took several moments to breathe out the excitement and fear in his heart. He'd known this was a possibility with allowing his attraction to Brianna turn to something more. He had known yet that attraction grew under his direction anyway. What did it say about him to place her in such an unfair predicament?

 _There will be no decisions now as the time draws closer to her departure. I must accept my regard for her and put it away for a time, perhaps even forever. There are more important matters to attend to,_ he thought and dipped his hands to scoop the broken sword to himself once again.

Lord Elrond has requested it before his departure. The time had come for it to be remade.

The halls of Imladris at night were illuminated by the stars. A new moon was upon them that night making the bright orb invisible to the naked eye of humans and most elves. His friend, Legolas, has stated he could see a faint outline every so often, but it was often difficult to spot at certain times of the season.

The elf lord was in the smithy stoking the fires when he arrived. Elrond didn't need to look at him. He knew of Aragorn's coming by the time of night and the sound of his footfalls.

"Good morning, Estel, I trust you slept well?" Elrond asked.

"That I did," Aragorn replied. "I have come to give you what was requested."

"Good. Are your affairs in order?"

Lord Elrond rose from his crouched position and hung the metal poker on a hook next to the fire. Aragorn inclined his head to indicate his affirmative.

"I have informed the Dunadan of my return and instructed them to begin preparations for a scouting expedition far into the north. If there are signs of the enemy we will discover them," he said.

Elrond waved his hand in the direction of a wide table near his fire. Aragorn moved and placed the shards of Narsil on its surface. His foster father studied them for several minutes before absently nodding his approval.

"It is better than I feared. Isildur never showed me anything but the handle," he remarked.

Aragorn didn't reply. An indifference for his ancestor had long since settled on him. He waited to be dismissed, but Lord Elrond kept him there a little while longer.

"The blade is well preserved. That will aid me as I melt it down. Care for such relics is encouraging and speaks well of your family," Elrond continued. "You wish to go into Gondor. I hope the gravity of such a choice weighs on your understanding?"

Aragorn inclined his head, "I am prepared to face the consequences of my destiny."

Lord Elrond's gaze softened and he stepped to Aragorn and gently gripped his shoulder, "The throne is a burden I wish on a few. You, my son, are as worthy of it as anyone I've known in my long years in this world. Fight for it and she will be ready."

Aragorn bowed his head. _She_ as in the throne of Gondor and its people. Sorrow filled him then and his age loomed before his eyes at the thought of what lay before him. Eighty-seven years! How could he possibly think to step into eternity if he could barely handle eighty-seven years?

Lord Elrond continued, "Do not think all consequences are bad. Some are good and allow you to make better choices that will lead to better consequences. I have always been proud of you and have looked on you as I would my own children. You will be king and I send you off with my blessing and confidence."

Aragorn didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He did allow the elf lord to pull him into a fatherly embrace. The elf, so ancient and wise, was the only father he had ever known.

"Thank you, Ada," he finally said hoarsely.

* * *

Brianna rose early and pulled on the training gear she requested a few days ago. Her hands shook as she strapped on a thick leather vest over fine cotton. The training grounds wasn't her first destination. First she would go to the gates and see Aragorn off to the road. At this moment she didn't know how she felt about this irritating certainty she had in regards to him.

Absently she pulled on a pair of boots. They were slim and firm fitting, but study to deflect as much damage from blunt objects as possible. She'd reviewed all of it last night to her satisfaction, so she didn't need to look over it again. On reflex she reached for her long knives, caught herself, and moved to choose her sword.

It was a picture of dwarven art she had commissioned upon her return to OLIMPUS. The blade was exceptionally thick with a razor sharp edge that never dulled. It's handle was carved from Avalon wood - a type of tree that grew around the hidden lake of the Fae. Brianna had been there once to deal with Queen Mab and return the faerie throne to its rightful rulers. Bits of that wood had been gifted to her as a collective "thank you" on behalf of their people. With that memory in the forefront of her mind she strapped her sword to her side and headed in the direction of the gates.

Brianna thought of Arwen for the duration of the trek if only to keep her mind from wandering to Aragorn. The elf lady was over one thousand years older than her, but maintained an innocence the Huntress could only dream of. In contrast Glorfindel seemed wiser in the ways of the world, but took its horrors with a measured patience that was to be hailed as impressive to all who knew him. It was a good match as far as Brianna was concerned. She'd seen romances where the partners were clearly ill-fitted and fated for disaster.

The gates appeared and she observed a small group of men conversing amongst each other with varying degrees of gravity. Glorfindel, Elrohir and Elladen were among this small gathering of ten. She approached slowly not wanting to disturb them from important logistical or tactical musings. Her caution was unwarranted because Glorfindel was first to see her and raised an elegant hand.

"Miss Brianna! What a sight for this day! Come and listen, if you wish!" He said eagerly.

Brianna grinned and approached. For a moment she considered moving a bit away from Aragorn to keep her intentions private, but the shy glance he sent in her direction prompted her to step into the empty space near him.

He leaned close to her and whispered, "We are discussing points of interest."

"Ah," she said.

Glorfindel smiled and began to fill her in on the particulars. Apparently Aragorn was to travel to the north where the Dunedan resided. Glorfindel intended to depart with Elrohir and Elladan to seek out the best route for their company out of Rivendell.

"What path do you wish to take on this front?" Glorfindel asked. "Do you have any insights, Miss Davis."

Brianna nodded, "Be wary of rivers, streams, caves, bogs and keep an eye or two on the sky as well. My enemies control various dark creatures and entities and will utilize them against you. The best path for us will be one with the most clear space."

Glorfindel inclined his head and turned to Elrohir and Elladan, "I have a few candidates. What of you?"

The twins glanced at each other before solemnly nodding their heads. They didn't elaborate; however, and made it clear that they felt the conversation was over. Brianna didn't protest nor was she offended. They had discussed this subject long before she had arrived and likely intended to search out other paths they planned on scouting.

There was also the fact that she would let their little sister come with them that likely soured their good opinion of her just a little bit. From they way they gave Glorfindel a wide berth she suspected that the elf Lord had endorsed Arwen's decision.

Each elf took their leave and stalked quietly out into the night. She was alone with Aragorn. Brianna was grateful it was dark and his eyes weren't nearly as keen as an elf's because her cheeks flushed with warmth.

"I am glad you are here," Aragorn said softly.

With a breath she turned to meet his gaze. Her breath caught and the reply on her lips faded from memory. Aragorn's eyes, their expression, their color, and their light were beautiful. Like twin stars orbiting the other within a large solar system. His very presence drew her in with a strong magnetic field.

"I am glad to see you now, in case I leave before you return," she finally replied.

Twin searching index fingers traced the edge of her hands. Brianna understood the gesture and tilted her fingers so his could lace through each slight digit. A shudder passed through her and it took her a moment to realize his hands were slightly less steady than they originally seemed.

 _We both feel it. This parting is like slamming the door on something that should happen, but won't,_ she thought.

"I shall miss you, Aracasse," he said.

"And I you, Estel," she whispered.

They remained like that for several minutes. The time seemed to slip away far too quickly. It was Aragorn who breathed a mournful sigh and released her. Brianna bit back a whimper. Despite this abrupt loss of contact Aragorn reached into a pouch attached to his belt and drew out a ring attached to a thin chain. He held it out to her and Brianna blinked, too stunned to think of anything to say.

"For you, to remember us," he said.

She smiled and blinked away a well of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, "I don't think I'll ever be able to forget you."

Then she reached out and took the offered ring. She knew what it meant. If they met again whatever it was they shared would be resolved one way or the other. He bowed his head, whispered a goodbye, and stepped through the gate to head for the wilderness beyond. Brianna stated after him for a while barely making note of the time. When a small part of her that still lived in the present now reminded her she had an appointment, Brianna breathed in a long breath and lifted the chain attached to the ring over her head. The ring fell between the V-fold of her vest and tapped against the top of her breasts.

 _I might… no… better not think it. It's better this way,_ she told herself and stepped back from the gates.

She needed to focus on Arwen as a priority in this moment. If the elder elf's skill with a blade passed her aunt's high standards of what the typical elven lady should know then Brianna would feel much easier giving her blessing.

* * *

The lady awaited her at the edge of a gravel strewn pen. They were the only ones in the area at that moment besides the hulking form of Lord Boromir of Gondor who currently made quick use of what Brianna quickly assumed was the archery range. Arwen smiled brightly upon seeing Brianna's quick approach. Decidedly pushing away thoughts of Aragorn Brianna responded with a returning grin followed closely by a happy wave.

Lady Arwen was a nice, sweet, elleth and Brianna enjoyed varying moments of her company. Once inside the fighting pen the elf pulled Brianna into a hug. As the moment of greeting drew away the tone of their meeting changed to something a bit more serious.

 _I'm about to tell an elf who is almost twenty-five hundred years older than me that she has to meet the standards of a short one hundred and sixty-nine year old child. This is far too surreal to even think about, so I better just suck it up and deal,_ she thought.

"What are the parameters of this session?" Arwen asked.

Brianna tapped the hilt of her sword, "First you need to hit me at least once on the leg then on the shoulder in swordplay. If you can get me down that will be better. Then we'll see how keen your archery is. That will pass some of my Aunt's standards at least. Your brothers probably have a higher one, but as we are in a group I'm not as concerned about mastery."

Arwen nodded and drew her sword. A guard was already fitted along the blade. Brianna drew out hers and ran her hand down the length of her blade. It shimmered with a sheath of air encasing it ever so lightly. Her opponent raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Instead she fell into a stance that reminded Brianna greatly of a preying mantis.

Brianna grinned, "Impressive."

She crouched forward, seeming to expose her neck and shoulders, and held her sword at her left hip guarding her entire torso. As expected, Arwen struck first. Her sword jabbed down intending to hit Brianna's exposed shoulder.

Brianna was faster.

The position she was in allowed for her to quickly tuck her chin to chest and lengthen the flat of her blade across her pelvis. This enabled a fast roll to dodge the attack and spring at the elf lady from her right. Arwen didn't anticipate the move, but she recovered from the shock of it. She stepped out of the way as Brianna sprang from the ground intending to jab at her side.

Their dance lasted several minutes where little sound could be heard as both elves moved and dodged at all of the appropriate moments. Brianna noticed, from the corner of her eye, that Lord Boromir had abandoned his practice in archery to watch the spectacle. She didn't have much time to dwell on it as Arwen attempted another tactic to jab the tip of her blunted blade into her shoulder. Brianna swung her sword up and blocked the blow. The sound of elven steel echoed across the mostly empty courtyard.

Brianna grinned.

Arwen threw her weight forward and Brianna maneuvered their swords to the ground before quickly stepping away. The older elf looked at her, looked back at her blade, then back to Brianna. Her eyes, as grey as the deep sea, glinted as her mind clearly echoed several calculations.

Then Arwen slipped forward, dropped to her knees, and clipped Brianna's calf just as she moved away. Brianna laughed and jumped into the air. Her body curled and extended then her feet touched the ground several feet away from Arwen.

"You seem to have a few advantages over me," Arwen observed.

They circled one another, blunted blades aimed at the other. Brianna glanced at Boromir again. He still watched them silently, calculating, as if memorizing each well aimed thrust and purposeful block they made. She studiously ignored him and returned her full attention to Arwen.

"My training regimen was constructed to fight other things besides orcs and wraiths," she explained.

"As mine is more self defense. I am the only one of my father's children to take an interest in the healing arts," Arwen replied.

Brianna visibly nodded. Mentally she calculated all the great uses a healer would be on a journey that may or may not include multiple attacks from her enemies. A healer, of course, needed protecting, but one that could mostly protect herself during battle was also a plus.

 _I'll still have to work with her. Some of the creatures from my world are poisonous,_ she thought.

In a blink Arwen rushed forward and slashed and jabbed for Brianna's shoulders. She blocked the maneuvers with relative ease, made to spin around her, but Arwen reached out, grabbed her arm, and jabbed the blunted tip of her sword into Brianna's shoulder. A loud "ugh" escaped her lips and Arwen let her go a minute later. Brianna sheathed her sword then laughing.

"Well, at least you'll be able to fight goblins!"

Arwen removed the guards along her blade before easing it back into its scabbard. Neither elf was breathing heavily from the workout.

"So long as you can use your height against them that should be good enough. When fighting orcs I think I'd rather you attempt for the high ground. Which comes to our next test. Archery!" Brianna chimed.

They exited the ring as sunlight inched its way above the crest of a particularly high hill. The man, Boromir, continued to watch them as if he couldn't quite comprehend the sight before him. Arwen, naturally, surpassed all expectations in archery thus making Brianna's support for the elf maid's company stronger.

* * *

Daenith watched Hecate's belly swell each day and observed the obvious toll it took on her body. There was a moment when Sauron began infusing his power into her that changed the course of the growing empty child in her womb. The Dark Lord's power was hot and foul and corrupted everything it came in contact with. Her coven sister's dark hair showed streaks of white. Red splotches speckled her chest and cheeks. Her lips were cracked and body dehydrated as she continued to pour every bit of sorcery that she knew into what would become Sauron's host.

One day, after Hecate spent an hour singing a dark spell that made even Daenith's hairs stand on end, their eyes met. That shared look sent Daenith into a silent rage once she returned to her quarters. Her coven sister would not survive the birth. Once that grown piece of flesh was born Hecate would fade into the dark void never to return.

 _We are all expendable to them. Queen Mab has failed us. We were queens! Once I held the lands of the North in my iron will as a human Empress! I seduced my half-sister to my side! I brought her and Arthur together into an incestuous ritual that begot the king's downfall! I was a queen! We were all queens!_ She thought.

Queens no more. They were reduced to pawns now. Daenith was a pawn doomed to likely be killed by one of the elven queen's companions once the curse finished spilling from her lips. Nyx was with Hades sharing his bed every night for the mere pleasure of her company. Aries, to be certain the spell held, took Daenith every night to strengthen his will within the curse's confines. She couldn't tell him that he was needlessly overdoing it. The curse kept her silent as the grave and she would remain so until her task was done.

She hated it. She despised Mab, Hades, and Aries. She wanted to break Sauron's power once and for all in payment for the hell her coven sister went through. There was a time when Daenith wanted the elven queen dead for her part in Lord Ba'al's death, but now? Now she saw her very vocal point.

 _I will tell them,_ she thought, _if I am able to I will tell them how to break the curse. Then they can kill me. It will be enough._

Today her coven sister stood at a window looking out to the desolate plains beyond Minas Morgul. Once blessed with coal black skin, her hue had lightened to a sickly grey. Eyes, once bright and red with power, dimmed a dark brown. Daenith knew what this meant, understood its purpose, as her sister faded. A life for a life. That was the parameters of the spell. To resurrect life into any form one must be prepared to give up life in return.

"Lord Sauron wishes to see you today, before you leave," Hecate said in a small voice that resembled a girl's instead of the strong sensuous female that trained Circe to charm Odysseus.

Daenith's eyes closed tightly for a moment before flickering open to silently communicate a question. Hecate smiled.

"Do you think I am going to give my life for the cause of some unworthy thing? Go see the Dark Lord. Aries will not have the elven queen," she said and then returned her gaze to the window.

Daenith gaped. She didn't want to see Lord Sauron so he could use her in his game, but…

Aries was the one who convinced Mab to choose Hecate instead of someone else. Hades did the deed. Persephone… had always wanted to escape her husband. Daenith smiled, understanding. Revenge lay in Sauron. Persephone's freedom lay in Sauron.

She understood. This wasn't for Aries or Hades or Mab.

Daenith turned and did as she was bid. If the Dark Lord wanted Queen Aracasse then he would have her and Aries could go back to hell for all she cared.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Departure**

 **Author's Note:** _hey guys! Didn't mean to wait until the end of the month to update this, but I hit a but of a writing slump and got back into reading. As I needed to read writing anything was put on the back burner and I slowly worked my way through this chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

Maf had spent too many years studying the particulars of the dark arts and knew the signs of its poison. King Theoden, true to the account of Lord Eomer and seconded by the young prince Theodred and Eomer's sister, Eowyn, was truly acting irrationally. It was subtle, too subtle to notice if one happened to be in a hurry, that even Maf had missed it upon first glance.

As Eomer's men had been sworn to secrecy about Maf's true origins as an outlander the official story of his coming centered solely around the northeast near a place called "The Lonely Mountain". There was a little school for healers in that region and Maf had spent the better part of his completely human life learning the arts. Such was the official story told before King Theoden and his quite interesting little advisor Grima Wormtongue upon Maf's reception in the Golden Hall.

Well, it was what he wanted them to believe and apparently the peoples of Rohan were ignorant enough of the world around them that the lie actually worked. He had forgotten the ease of which the elves could move among humankind on Earth when the world was still young. Ever since the dawn of the industrial age of earth hiding among the humans became all the more difficult. They had to get creative, exorcise more caution, and begin to plan for the day when humanity would know of them once more. That last point had yet to be discussed among his peers and the elven queen wasn't in a position to think of the matter.

For the purposes of Maf's current mission he'd removed all traces of his elven ancestry with careful applications of his brush and ink. The act amazed and frightened Eomer and his men and it took Maf several minutes to return them to a state of calm and trust. That time he used the simple art of persuasion instead of the other, deeper, element at his fingertips. How could one explain the complexities of elven science to humans who had yet to invent the printing press?

This particular afternoon found Maf reading through the former healer's notes. Some of the information was fair, but there were several glaring inaccuracies that prompted Maf to request a fresh journal from the housekeeper so he could compile something a bit more useful. This, of course, prompted him to find a book on the local botanical population so he could make a much more informed decision on certain matters.

"Master Mafortion?"

He looked up to see a tall blond woman enter his designated work room. She walked brusquely to his desk and stopped only a few paces away. Maf cocked his head to one side and leaned into the very uncomfortable wooden back of his chair. Her arms were wrapped around her slim front and held a brown leather book to her breast.

"Lady Eowyn, I see the housekeeper saw fit to give you the empty journal I needed," Maf remarked.

She inclined her head, but didn't move to give it to him. Maf raised an eyebrow and waited for her to answer. After several moments of deliberation she did.

"I requested that I bring you the object of your request," she said, voice steady.

Too steady.

He narrowed his eyes and sat up straight. Something was wrong. There was a small trace of something in her tone that told him this.

"Well, I certainly thank you, Lady, for your generous donation of your time. May I?" He held out his hand.

She hesitated for a moment before extending a shaking hand holding the thick journal to him. Maf smiled, took the offered journal, and smiled gently at her. Then he opened it and saw, written in an alphabet he had only seen outlined in his mother's notes, the words " **Help me"**. He blinked then shut the book carefully. Without much of a preamble Maf stood and strode to the open door to look into the hall. When he didn't see anything he touched the loth galine. His awareness heightened and he immediately discovered a little spy around the closest corner.

Grima Wormtongue. Of course it was!

He clicked his tongue and turned back into the room and remarked, "Allow me to make a brew for your headache, my lady. I can't imagine the difficulty in tending to your uncle with such an uncomfortable affliction."

He closed the door, walked to where his brush and jar of ink lay on the table and picked both up. He winked at her and began writing the elven runes of earth along the panels of his door. It was almost insulting. If this was the best any sort of enemy could do then he didn't think dealing with them would be particularly difficult.

 _But, who does he work for, I wonder?_ He thought.

"What are you doing?" She asked just as Maf stroked the final letter.

The walls of the room shimmered ever so slightly. She gasped and backed into his table.

"Making it so we won't be overheard by undesirable spies," he replied lightly than turned to look at her, "I'm assuming you wrote "help me" in that journal just so you and I could have a chat."

Maf took that moment to look over her person. Lady Eowyn's entire body was shaking and her eyes stared at him wide and afraid. It was incredibly disconcerting and he allowed his demeanor to soften a bit as he raised his hands to the air.

"I'm a physician at times, Lady Eowyn, and I swear I'm not locking you in my room for the sake of some perverse pleasure," he said.

She didn't look convinced. Maf sighed. Getting her to the point where she relaxed enough to actually tell him anything was going to be difficult.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lady, but you wish to speak to me on something private and I am merely assuring that privacy," he said.

This didn't completely relax her, but it did get her to step away from his desk and approach him warily. Her gaze was hard and sharp and very brittle. Whatever it was had clearly shaken the girl badly.

"I have… I need to know…" she attempted, but couldn't get the words out without her voice breaking.

Maf moved, grabbed another chair, and moved it forward. He extended his hand to hers, but she shook her head and sank into the offered seat without his help. Maf knelt beside her and met her gaze.

"What do you need to know?" He asked softly.

Her blue eyes pooled and a strangled sob escaped her throat. Lady Eowyn covered her mouth and leaned forward with her shoulders shaking. Maf stood then and went to a little shelf of potions he'd spent the first few days of his stay as a physician concocting. He selected one with a blue color and handed it to her.

"This is for the nerves. It's blueberry wine," he said.

She looked at the offered bottle incredulously before taking it and upending the entire bottle. He winced a bit at that. The wine he'd made had a fairly high alcoholic concentration and was meant to be sipped.

"Why wine?" She asked as she handed the empty bottle to him.

"It's a good calming agent," Maf said.

She nodded and remained silent for several moments longer. Maf remained patient and calm. Whatever it was she needed to ask him would come eventually. As of now all he needed to do was calm her down.

"I need to know how long it takes for a woman to know if she's pregnant," she stated.

Maf blinked and she turned to look at him, eyes dead and haunted, hands clasped tightly together in her lap. It didn't necessitate further prodding from him to figure out exactly why she wanted to know.

"When?" He asked.

"Four nights ago," she whispered through a sob.

Maf swallowed and knelt beside her once more, "Who?"

"Grima."

Maf's jaw clenched as his mind began to categorize the known poisons in his cabinet, "Did he deign to state a reason for this attack?"

Her teeth worried her bottom lip, "He wanted me and I spurned his advances. I've done so for over a year. I suppose he wearied of it and decided to take me anyway."

Maf didn't reply. He couldn't. It had been far too long since his time as a physician among a medieval society. Women who were raped tended to be socially ruined for the rest of their lives. Lady Eowyn's demeanor and reluctance to say anything on the subject was telling enough.

"Would you like me to check? It is early, but there are things I can do to detect life," he responded.

She stared at him for several long moments before slowly nodding her consent. He stood and offered his hand to her. This time she took it and allowed him to help her to her feet and guide her to the little cot reserved for patients.

"Lay down here, flat on your back, good. Now close your eyes, relax and breath," he waited for her to do so and then continued, "I will place my hands along your lower abdomen. I will not need to go farther. However, after we check I will want to inspect your body for damage."

She nodded and Maf began his work. A sharp gasp escaped her the moment his magic began to search for a tiny spark of light. It only took moments for him to search her uterus. He relaxed, only a bit, as relief flooded through him.

"There is no child," he told her softly.

Lady Eowyn's body lost all of its tension. A couple of tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. They fluttered open and she offered a very small smile which he returned.

"Now, tell me, what shall we do to that little worm in return?" He asked conspiratorially.

Her eyes, once dead, sparked, "Is killing him an option?"

 _Yep! She and Brianna would get along splendidly,_ he thought.

"Eventually," Maf said vaguely, "until then, why not make him suffer?"

After all, poison didn't have to kill anyone.

* * *

Ailya was a well known healer on earth among her people. She was a psychotherapist as part of her human profession so as to avoid difficult questions about her apparent blindness. Her status as a prophetess and seer was a small part of her life and only affected her in moments where The Triune took a direct hand in guiding his creation. In her time residing in Minas Tirith she'd been privy to several prophecies regarding the young son of the steward, Captain Faramir.

She'd met him in several instances never giving away that she could see his face despite deftly patching him and his men up every time they visited the citadel. His father, Denethor, dismissed her as a wandering blind elf with a bit more assuredness to her surroundings than a blind human would have and immediately put her to work in the halls of healing.

"How is it that you can heal when your own eyes see nothing?" Faramir asked once out of a long slew of curious questions Ailya had found endearing.

"Carefully, my lord," she replied and continued with her work tending to his men.

Their interactions tended to end there as Faramir was called to attend his father and give him an update on the status regaining all of Osgiliath. Ailya chose to ignore those conversations as they ended with Denethor's wrath against Faramir more often than not.

On this day Faramir's company rode in from their outpost in Cair Andros and first came to their healing wards. Ailya was tasked with patching up their minor wounds by the matron while the elderly human took her time inspecting the men's psyche. The reason for this didn't occur to her until she approached one of the patients and noted his vacant expression and trembling limbs.

"You are Iorlas?" She asked softly as she reached out to touch him.

He jumped, screamed, and shrank to the ground muttering a string of words in a language Ailya barely understood. Footsteps alerted her to a man's approach and the certain heavy set fall to their heals told her that Faramir approached.

"A great fear has struck him. He was one if the men sent to our outpost from Osgiliath. We know it is the work of Mordor, but more than that I cannot say," he said.

"Then there is little we can do for them," the matron said.

Ailya's brows knitted together as she considered the ramifications of revealing herself to have more power than she originally led them to believe. When her patient began sobbing into his hands the decision was made.

"Faramir, Matron Belinda, prepare one of the vacant wards in these halls. Gather every patient afflicted with this shadow of fear and call in the most experienced of healers. I shall attend to them," she instructed.

The matron sent her a sharp look that Ailya pretended she couldn't see, "What gives you the right to give orders in my halls?"

Ailya looked at her, truly looked at her, with her vacant eyes and replied, "I am a healer with thousands of years experience which far outweighs your own. I have experience with afflictions such as this and my call as a physician commands that I heal them."

Silence met her declaration. Matron Belinda opened her mouth in protest, but was silenced by a severe look Captain Faramir sent her way. Ailya continued to stare vacantly at the space between them and gave no indication that she saw his silent command. Humans in a world of dark magic likely couldn't handle observing the magic of the elves of earth without much preamble.

"Give Lady Ailya what she needs. I will inform my father of this development. If he does not favor this decision he may punish me as he sees fit," he said and left the room.

Matron Belinda released an indignant huff before fixing Ailya with a severe glance, "Lord Denethor may reject this proposal."

Ailya turned and crouched next to another patient, this one sporting the tale tell signs of darkfire injuries. She "tsked" as she gently traced her fingers along the burns before beckoning the Matron to her side. The human woman approached and knelt beside her to study the wound with her own eyes. A hiss passed her lips and conveyed to Ailya her recognition of the seriousness of the wound.

"What can be done for this?" She asked.

"Fetch Lavender, calendula, sage, and rosemary. I will make a mixture from that and apply it carefully to each burn. If it works then we will be able to use it on other victims," Ailya said.

Matron Belinda nodded and barked orders to a few members of her staff waiting passively by. They nodded and hurried off to their herb room to fetch the requested plants. The matron rose to her feet and began helping a young man with a broken leg. Ailya waited until she had gone beyond sight before gently applying a bit of her magic to the man's wounds in hopes of alleviating a few of the symptoms.

 _How long until my queen comes, I know not,_ she thought, _but here I will remain until she comes._

She helped the young man drift off to a light sleep just as her fellow healers returned from their stores with the requested items in hand. Ailya accepted them with a nod of thanks and instructed them on the exact temperature the water needed to reach before they could begin mixing the ingredients. The girls hung onto her every word, eager to learn from one as experienced as she, and it caused Ailya to hold back a smile. She hadn't instructed such attentive students since the days when Merlin was a lad.

* * *

Brianna trained with Arwen in the early mornings. Their swordplay had become a habitual time of female bonding that only two elleth preparing to embark on a dangerous quest could rely on. It kept Brianna's mind off of the preparations for leaving - the stress from having to organize provisions, costumes, and designing proper weaponry for dealing with evil creatures from her world - as well as the growing pit of emptiness she felt as each day passed. Thinking of the reason for the latter wasn't in the least bit productive, so she reasoned that if she managed to keep busy every day leading up to the moment of her departure then it would finally go away. It was a naive thought, she knew, as this wasn't the first time she had experienced such a feeling, but she strongly hoped such would be the case in this instance.

As the weeks passed and the end of November drew nigh the members from her group returned from their scouting missions. Glorfindel, Elrohir and Elladan came relatively at the same time with similar tidings. The enemy had left the lands west of the Misty Mountains. None could provide a reason. They were simply gone. Brianna suspected she knew the reason and didn't like it one bit.

 _But what to do?_ She thought one day after a three hour sparring session with Arwen.

Every session was monitored by Lord Boromir whose eyes never left them until several minutes after they lowered their swords. Arwen didn't think much of it, but his presence unsettled Brianna to no end. After two and a half weeks she concluded that the young lord wanted something. What that something was eluded her and when another three days passed and no move was made by him she wrote off his presence as more than likely innocent.

Then, one morning a week before she was to depart, Lord Boromir finally approached her. Arwen had just left the training grounds to prepare for a small breakfast with Glorfindel in their shared favorite grove in the garden. Brianna was busy practicing a particularly aggressive attack sequence with a pair of long knives dangerously whirring through the air and had only barely noticed his approach. She didn't cease her show. Her mind was too busy reliving the last time she needed such quick successive movements and wasn't particularly inclined to give him a moment's thought.

Boromir surprised her by doing something the American Soldiers in her secret operations unit in World War II never had. He waited patiently for her to finish.

When she finally slid to one knee - one knife thrust in an overhead block and the other aimed at an imaginary kidney - did he approach. Brianna relaxed her stance at the moment if his first step and stood, turning to him with one thin brow raised. Boromir inclined his head with silent respect.

"Your Grace," he greeted.

Brianna snorted, "I'm not your queen, good soldier. Call me Lady if you feel the need to be formal. If you would like you actually can call me Brianna. The hobbits typically call me Bri for a reason I have yet to comprehend, but if that's preferred by all means do so."

His grave expression didn't lighten and Brianna kept herself from showing her exasperation. The man was typically a lively person, so she figured that whatever the matter was it would likely be of some severity.

"Do you know of the ring you carry?" He asked.

Brianna blinked. Ring? Her hand reached habitually for the chain that supported Aragorn's gift and understanding dawned as her fingers caressed the metal.

Ah. That ring.

"I know of it's owner," she replied. "But I don't know its history."

He nodded, face grave, "So you know little of its significance and what it means for him to give it to you?"

Brianna forced her hand to leave the ring alone and clasped her hands behind her back, "In my world, among humans and elves, gifts of personal significance denote a mutual attachment of a sort. For some humans and elf provinces the gifting of rings mean an engagement of marriage."

Boromir inclined his head. Brianna willed her body to hold back the flush that threatened to creep up the length of her neck and paint itself across her cheeks. Aragorn knew, he had to have known, the possibility of her leaving. It wasn't an engagement they entered in, not completely, but…

"I'm aware of what he may want, but I don't know if I can give it," she said.

He crossed his arms and Brianna had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. The degree to which this man was protective of a man he didn't know was absolutely astonishing!

"Then why accept it?"

Brianna averted her eyes, not wanting to completely reveal her feelings on the matter, and remained silent. Why accept it? She knew why, knew what she would be giving up if she did leave, and understood the difficulty of doing so would mean. Her mind drew her aunt Artemis to the forefront and her heart sank. She couldn't be like her and she couldn't stand the life Professor Moruni and Maf led either.

 _But I must rule, I must produce an heir, I don't have a choice,_ she thought pained.

"Because I'm foolishly weak," she finally said.

Boromir didn't reply for a long time. It gave Brianna the excuse to turn from him and begin cleaning the long knives she'd practiced with. Water gathered in her hands and moved along the sharp edges of the knives. Unlike before when she employed this method of cleaning, the act didn't calm the torrent of emotion whirling in the pit of her stomach.

"I would not have believed it to be a weakness on your part, so long as you do not lead him to false hope," Boromir said.

"He doesn't have false hope," she said softly. "There's a reason I accepted the ring, gondorian."

"In that case, I look forward to the day when I shall call you my queen," he said.

Brianna turned sharply to give him a much deserved tongue lashing about filling Aragorn's head with false hope, but Boromir had already turned and left. She clutched both knives in her hands and resisted the urge to chuck them at him. It was flattering, she supposed, but he had no right to imply anything of the sort to her!

* * *

Artemis was caught between two emotions: anticipation and bone chilling fear. She'd never left earth in all her three thousand years of existence. To do so now for the sake of her trouble-prone niece would officially be the most daring thing she'd ever attempted. The Professor and Loki had given the time of day, the green light, and soon they would join Maf and Ailya in Arda.

 _Of a sort since we don't really know where they are,_ she thought.

The sun slowly crept across the sky and their little group waited with bated breath for the right moment to take the first leap. Loki and Matt were slated to take Karen while The Professor would carry Artemis with her across the Expanse. From the sun's position Artemis figured the crossing would begin soon.

"Don't overthink this," Professor Moruni said, startling Artemis from her thoughts. "Keep that up and you'll cause me to lose concentration."

Artemis swallowed and nodded. Bile rose from her stomach and into her throat. She closed her eyes and began to breathe, repeating the litany against fear that Brianna loved quoting. _I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…_

The Professor sighed and shook her head. Artemis barely noticed the action. Her mind relaxed and the world fell away from her.

"It's time! Loki, Matt, your group goes first!" The Professor called.

Those words broke through Artemis's peace and she forced herself to continue. _Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…_

"Draw the last few runes clearly and precisely!" Loki said sharply.

 _I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me…_

A rushing of winds turned around them. A light flashed against Artemis's closed lids and she knew without needing to open them that they were gone. The Professor shifted next to her and Artemis heard the dirt draw itself into the last lines of the runic equation that would take them to Arda. Again, the fear reared. Artemis kept her eyes closed and continued to chant in her mind.

 _And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path._

The world became weightless and void for what seemed like an eternity. Artemis forced herself to breathe and relax and pushed the urge to fret from her mind.

 _Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain._

The weightless world left her and Artemis felt the heals of her feet on solid ground. She opened her eyes, mind oddly peaceful now that she had left earth, and took in the forest around her. The trees were tall - as tall as New York City's buildings - and were adorned with bright golden leaves. Cold air met her nostrils as did the sharp metallic scent of winter which accompanied the north wind.

"Where are we?" Artemis asked, awestruck.

She'd been to Avalon, she'd lived her life on Olympus before the fall of Aries, and she'd beheld the new capital city when her half-sister Athena first wrought its foundations. This place wasn't anything like she had seen before.

"We're in Arda," the Professor said, "This land is enriched by strong magic. I don't… it reminds me of a place, but I can't quite remember it."

"You may want to think fast," Artemis said as her gaze danced between the shadows of the foliage around them, "We're being observed."

She tapped at the silver circle pinned to her shoulder and a quiver of arrows materialized from its compressed state. Her fingers tapped against a pendent from her bracelet and a bow appeared a moment later. The Professor's hand closed around her wrist as it lifted to grip an arrow.

"Let's not alarm them any further," she said.

Then the tall red headed elf turned to the expanse and began speaking in a language that resembled Old Elvish to an extent. Artemis' brows furrowed at each calmly spoken syllable. It was like trying to decipher Dutch and German when one understood one language and not the other.

The shadows materialized from the darkness wearing green and brown cloaks. Their white bows were drawn back and carefully aimed arrows leveled at the two of them. Artemis frowned.

"I don't think they understand you," she said dryly.

The Professor smirked, "Oh, I think they did."

Artemis raised an eyebrow at her, "How would you know this?"

"I essentially called them dog rutting bastards!" The professor chirped.

Artemis gaped at her for a moment before she recollected herself and returned her attention back to the circle of hooded hunters. She swallowed.

 _God dammit!_


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **With Such Sweet Sorrow**

 **Aurhor's Note:** _Okay, I think I teared up a bit writing the end of this one, but that might just be me. You guys be the judge! Also, sorry it took so long to update. I've been really busy lately and I was stuck on the middle part of this chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

Brianna wondered if she could be anymore anxious about leaving Rivendell than she already was. For the entire night she stood up and down pacing from one side of the room to the other. Every so often she went through her packs, checked the integrity of her boots and straps for her weapons, inspected the two silver bracelets she wore where her hidden weapons were kept locked away in various charms, and paced around the length of her rooms with a nervous energy she couldn't quite explain. This anxiousness was strange to her. Anticipation was one thing, but to actually be nervous about a pending journey was a strange place for her to be.

In the end she wandered into her bathing chambers and filled and heated the marble tub herself so as to not disturb the elf maid who attended to her knees and was likely asleep. Well, she amended, the elf maid probably did have something better to do than wait on her every little need. At least she hoped that was the case. The idea of servants always troubled her one way or another. It felt too class restrictive, as if those serving her didn't have better prospects other than waiting on her hand and foot. This thought led her to make ready the majority of the baths she took, lay out a sheer silk nightgown incredibly soft to the touch, and unlace the ties that held her dress together. Once the last lace slipped from its loop Brianna shrugged out of it and allowed the fabric to pool around her feet.

The braid came out next - an intricate design that the maid servant had spent an hour folding into place earlier that morning. It took mere seconds to completely undo all of it. Bronze waves cascaded down the length of her back and danced around the lowest curve of her back. She moved to a small shelf that housed multiple jars of different bath oils and selected a particularly floral smelling one to tip into the steaming bath water. Once the smell filled the room she stepped gingerly into the near scalding water and sank into its depths.

A content sigh escaped her lips. This would likely be the last time she could take a bath for a long time. Lorien would likely have that provision, but they still had to get there. The trek over the mountains, taking the path Glorfindel laid out, would take two weeks if the lot of them traveled swiftly. Two more weeks, at the least, faced the group after the mountains were left behind.

 _And how much time will I have to rest in Lorien? Probably very little if I know my luck,_ she thought.

She didn't have any preconceived notions about the amount of time she would invest in research alone. She'd spent the majority of her free time in Lord Elrond's massive library searching the tomes, translating passages she couldn't quite make out from the ancient elvish into the universal Common Tongue. It was lucky, she supposed, that she landed herself into a world where a portion of its population actually spoke something that resembled seventeenth century High English dialect.

Brianna dunked her head under the water for a few long moments and broke the surface with a gasp. Her long hair pooled around her like thin tendrils of seaweed in calm bay waters. A moment later she broke the surface and gulped in a generous amount of air into her barely strained lungs. It was a good breathing exorcise and it kept her skills quite versatile all things considered. She needed a better place to practice breathing for long periods of time underwater. In the rare instance someone could block her magic it would be incredibly useful.

With that thought she rose from her bath, drained the water, and stepped back into her bed chamber. Two windows gaped open before her and a gentle wind blew in from the north slightly warmed by whatever sort of enchantment Lord Elrond held his lands under. Goosebumps played along the length of her skin and a shudder wracked up the length of her spine. It wasn't brought on by the cold. That knowledge prompted her to clasp her elbows with each hand in an effort to steady her unsettled soul.

Days passed since Aragorn's departure and Brianna couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. No amount of work she poured her time and energy in assayed that feeling. It rammed into her subconscious like a persistent woodpecker and refused to acknowledge that there were no bugs in the wood. Except clearly there was something there because it sometimes did luck out and find something only to prod it into the forefront of her mind.

She shook her head, disgusted with herself, and turned to don her traveling clothes. When her fingers grazed over the silver chain that kept Aragorn's ring Brianna paused in her mad ascent to leave her rooms for the gates. She should leave the ring with Elrond. It would find itself back to Aragorn's hands and the man could give it to someone who actually deserved it! A human woman he could grow old with, bare children with, die with and not have to worry about leaving. She was going to leave, she would live forever, she…

Brianna closed her eyes and clenched both hands into tight fists. It was as if her heart would break! It hurt to consider it, but she forced herself to face her reality. She stared it in the eye. A breath. Then another. Moments passed where she stood unmoving before her fingers reached out, closed around the ring's chain and lifted it to clasp around her neck.

If Aragorn wanted her to have it, she would keep it until the day she left Arda for home.

* * *

Minutes later found Brianna traversing the halls of Elrond's winding house to the courtyard where her traveling partners waited. Aragorn's ring hung proudly from her neck and settled boldly just beyond her collarbone. Elrohir and Elladan were the only two of her companions to have arrived. Arwen and Glorfindel had yet to emerge and she suspected they were stealing the last few minutes of alone-time that remained before they were to leave. She didn't blame them. Had she been given the chance in the past…

She frowned and blinked away the memory. Alyan's image had burst across the vision of her mind's eye and threatened to plunge her into a day's long despondence. Judah's loss had hurt, but she didn't think she'd ever be able to get over the horror of watching Ba'al mutilate the ellon she had desperately loved to death. A lump formed in her throat and she couldn't stop the process of her mind morphing Alyan's figure into Aragorn's. Her blood ran cold.

 _This… my leaving is for the best,_ she thought resolutely.

Elrohir and Elladan nodded to her upon arrival and continued checking their individual packs. Brianna glanced questioning at Elrohir who merely nodded to a bench some ways from the gate where three more leather packs quietly waited for their owners to select them. Silent as a cat Brianna moved forward and picked out the one tailored to her height. She flipped open the top flap and rummaged through every item assigned to her. Medicinal herbs, the seeds of different plants she'd requested, food fit for travel, extra weapons, bed roll and blanket, wool cloak, and a letter from Lord Elrond to Lady Galadriel concerning Brianna's purpose. She nodded to herself and moved the bag she personally packed over her head and to the ground. Carefully she took the shoulder straps and expertly fit them around the thick bag that housed her extra clothes, a few bindings of her notes on the country side and the elvish dialect of Sindarin, and Bilbo's translated copy of The Lay of Luthien.

As she finished wrapping the final strap Glorfindel and Arwen walked up to the gate clad in simple travel wear of grey and green. Their hands were linked with no intention of releasing the other any time soon. For a moment Brianna felt jealous of their ability to be together. Their relationship was as uncomplicated as a field of flowers growing in springtime and they _could_ be as they were. Arwen didn't have to worry about her impending departure, she didn't need to fear the prospect of Glorfindel choosing to grow old, and she certainly wasn't worried about whoever the bloody hell Erebus was working for and if Glorfindel would die because of it.

Brianna bit the inside of her lip to bring her out of it. Guilt followed the brief pain soon after. It was such a useless sentiment to have! Arwen likely had fears concerning the journey they would embark upon. She couldn't let her fiancé leave without her! Clearly she understood that association with Brianna was dangerous and instead of resenting her for it Arwen chose to follow them into the unknown darkness. The complications of their relationship were irrelevant to the truth of the matter. Brianna wanted what they had with Aragorn, knew she couldn't get it, and tried to resent them for it.

 _And that is a disgusting display of selfishness,_ she thought, berating herself. _I can't afford this weakness. Not if something worse beyond Erebus lurks in the background._

"The weather is fair this day," Arwen remarked.

"Yes, sister, let's hope it remains for journey's sake," Elladan remarked.

Brianna readjusted her newly configured pack across her back and nodded to her elleth friend. Arwen's eyes shown with an excitement that Brianna was loth to kill. Eventually, there would be a moment where the danger'd become all too real. Until then she elected for her friend to remain blissfully ignorant. When she chanced a look at Glorfindel the conclusion seemed to have reached him as well.

"Is all ready?" The Elf Lord asked.

All members of their company looked to Brianna. Her mouth dried and she forced saliva across her tongue and the ridge of her mouth. As thankful as she was for their company she missed Karen and Matt.

 _But they're not here and I can't rely on them as I would. We will need to learn each other quickly in case the worst comes to pass,_ she thought.

"If all of us are sufficiently prepared, then we'd best go," Brianna said to them.

Once an affirmation had been received Brianna nodded to Glorfindel and allowed him to lead them into the wild once more.

* * *

Loki hadn't actually intended for his group to materialize in the private chambers of a princess. Unfortunately for all involved he had done just that. Whether the mistake was Matt's - who tended to think on a certain norse "goddess" from time to time - or his was a bit of a coin-toss. The situation might have been made better had said princess not been in the middle of removing her garments for the purpose of plunging her body into a piping hot tub at the other end of the surprisingly large room. She'd screamed. Matt had exclaimed some word of surprise and made a conscious effort to cover his eyes and ears. Karen yelled at both of them.

What had Loki done during all of this, one may ask? He stared at the partially clothed young woman - mostly human he surmised though he did detect traces of elvish in her cheeks and the light of her eyes - calmly measuring her. The girl's face was flushed a rather fetching red and, had humans been his type, Loki would have labeled her quite the beauty. What impressed him was the way she grabbed an iron poker that rested near her large fire and chucked it at them.

Loki caught it before it's tip met with Matt's covered head. This time the young human ran up to him with a dangerously sharp knife in hand.

"Now none of that!" Loki chided and grabbed her wrist before she had a chance to plunge the knife into his heart.

Matt and Karen ceased their bickering that moment and gaped at the two incredulously. The human struggled against his grip but to no avail.

"Oi mate! Ya have teh scare the lass?" Karen asked, Scottish brogue thick in the moment.

Then the door was flung open and the girl's guards finally decided to make themselves known. They crowded into the room and lowered their spears in their direction. Loki rolled his eyes and released a long - put upon - sigh. He glanced at the human with one dark brow raised and a smirk adorning his lips. Her green eyes blazed up at him and Loki wondered just how effective the fire element would be if she had the ability to use it.

"Your guards are painfully slow. I'd recommend nee ones who are actually alert," he deadpanned.

The guards echoed a number of foul curses in his direction. Loki grinned at them.

"Really! You're lucky we actually don't want to hurt her because she'd be dead by now!" He chirped.

They began to approach with the points of their spears leveled dangerously at their necks. Beside him Matt and Karen raised their hands into the air.

"You bloody old ones are bloody mental," Karen grumbled.

"Oh Miss Gillian, I don't think that was necessary," Loki responded dryly.

A rapid tapping brought them out of their conversation and each looked to the human girl watching them with a mixture of anger and awe. Loki cleared his throat and nodded to her - indicating that they were ready to hear what she had to say.

"Who are you that appear in my chambers? What do you wish of me?" She asked.

Loki grinned. Karen groaned in apprehension. Matt simply sighed and shook his head.

"I am Loki and these are my compadres, The Nagger and The Accidental Chemist. We're here because we're looking for an elf by the name of Brianna Davis. Have you happen to have met her?" He asked.

The human tensed and she fisted her hands around her pale blue underdress. Green eyes narrowed to thin slits.

"This is the house of Prince Imrahil in Dol Amroth. There are very few elves that live here and the ones that do have no such name," she said with no small of bite in her tone.

Karen interjected before Loki could, "She might be an elf, but she can look human if she wants. Her eyes, though, they'll look a bit strange. See anything like tha'?"

The girl crossed her arms and frowned. Light blue-grey eyes framed by long feminine lashes flickered between each of their faces. Loki waited, curious as to what it was she intended to do, and seemingly unconcerned. Beside him Karen and Matt fidgeted in their slight tells. From the look on the girl's face he would have bet his immortality this lady noticed every nervous twitch.

 _I'll need to speak with Artemis about this,_ he thought, _hunters shouldn't give tells or nervous twitches._

"My father is out on the docks this morning," the partially clothed lady finally announced, "I will have you escorted to separate rooms and guarded heavily until he returns. I presume that, if you are indeed friends, then you will not oppose this arrangement."

The hunters rustled with identical airs of uneasiness. Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes. He understood, truly he did, but this they had to separation needed to end eventually. Now was the perfect opportunity. If their hosts proved false they could probably kill them without too much of a sweat.

"I certainly don't see an issue with it. Lead on, lady," he said smoothly.

Her eyes narrowed, but no reply came forth. She nodded to her guards and they moved to surround them. Loki met Matt and Karen's eyes communicating his one silent command. They willingly obliged and allowed the soldiers to take them to whatever sort of nasty dungeon awaited them.

* * *

Aragorn's return journey was as uneventful as the first. His meeting with Halbarad and the other leaders of the Dunadain as few as they were. A few weeks in the wilderness had produced no sign of the enemy and found him returning to Rivendell briefly before setting out once again to begin his task in scouting the best route out of Imladris and over the mountains. Gandalf would be a much needed consultant before embarking on such a task.

It was late evening before Aragorn noticed signs of a much roamed forest. A few houses inhabited by small elven and human families he'd watched from afar for decades. One elven female - the wife of one of Lord Elrond's men - raised her arm in greeting when she'd seen him. Aragorn returned it with a silent nod before traveling onward.

 _Three days from Imladris,_ he thought.

His heart hurt at the thought. He'd kept count of the days. How could he not? Hope had been given even if it was slight and highly unlikely. He was three days passed the beginning of December and Brianna was gone. Aragorn tried, at first, to push his sore disappointment to the back of his mind. It was for naught as the prospect of never seeing her again released several other emotions he'd kept carefully regulated for several weeks.

Aragorn swallowed past the lump that formed in his throat and he forced his mind to return to the task at hand. Resolutely, Aragorn continued his task in scouting the land around Imladris for an inkling of an enemy and to give an accurate count of possible paths toward the Fellowship's destination. To Mordor. To Sauron. To Gondor. To his kingdom this time as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King-Apparent of the realm. He didn't want it. For centuries his forefathers had chosen to rule Arthedain and later the remnant of the Dunadain in Arnor. They had studiously avoided returning to Gondor as kings and went so far as to hide their identities and move quietly across the lands as ghosts.

Voices startled him from his reverie and Aragorn fell into the shadows of the growing evening's twilight. He watched the narrow path ten feet away and waited for the voices to come closer. The dark figure of Elrohir materialized through the gloom first followed closely by his brother, Elladan. Glorfindel trailed a little ways behind them walking the narrow path casually. Arwen was directly behind him discussing some subject or another Aragorn couldn't quite pick out. A little ways away from them was Brianna.

As always when seeing her, his breath hitched and a number of emotions he had yet to completely sort out overtook him. She was clad in a traveler's cloak and elven styled vest and leggings. Her boots were sturdier than the ones she'd worn when they'd first met, and her hair was pulled back into a tight braid that looped over her shoulder. By the way her brows knitted together Aragorn suspected she was concerned about something.

 _The absence of our enemies here, perhaps?_ He wondered.

There was only a moment of hesitation on his part - a moment where he considered simply letting them pass and moving onward to Rivendell - before he stepped into the fading light of day and raised his hand in greeting. Glorfindel saw him first and smiled. Arwen stepped back and allowed them to greet each other, but she still echoed the customary greeting taught to her by Elrond. Elrohir and Elladan stood further away from them waiting to continue their trek, but returned his greeting all the same.

When Aragorn turned to Brianna, she was frozen in place clutching the ring he'd given her. He bowed low.

"Brianna," he said softly.

"Strider," she whispered, understanding his silent plea not to use his real name.

Aragorn wasn't entirely sure what clued her into realizing an important conversation needed to happen, but Arwen stepped forward and nodded to her brothers, "Is there a good place to make camp, Elrohir?"

The elder twin stared at her for a moment before replying, "Elladan and I can check."

Glorefindel, as if catching on, took Arwen's hand and said, "We will search as well. If I remember correctly there is a place not far from here that would serve as a decent place to sleep."

"I remember a few," Elrohir replied.

"Then let us meet here in fifteen minutes to discuss these potential resting areas," Glorfindel said.

He turned and led Arwen through the dense brush opposite of where Aragorn had hid. Elrohir and Elladan stepped past Aragorn and disappeared into the forest shadows. He looked at Brianna and took in the soft curve of her cheek and the part in her lips. She grabbed the bottom lip with her top teeth and slowly released it. When he met her eyes again he observed the expression reflected in them.

"I hadn't thought to have met you on the road. Glorfindel is taking you on a road few travel," he said.

"I was… disappointed when you hadn't," she said measuredly.

Aragorn swallowed and replied, "We have much to speak of and little time to do so."

"Maybe we shouldn't."

"If you so wish."

It didn't escape his attention that Brianna's hand remained clutched to his ring. Her eyes shimmered.

"I don't wish it, Strider, believe me," she said so softly he had to strain his ears to hear.

It shouldn't have been possible to feel both joy and sadness at once, but he did just then. He watched her hand release his ring and move to unclasp the chain. In that same moment his hand reached out and closed around her wrist.

"Don't," he whispered, "it's yours. It will always be yours."

"But -."

"It's yours," he insisted. "Always."

Her hand slipped into his. Their fingers laced together each gripping the other tightly.

"On my wrist, there's a bracelet. Take it. Keep it wherever. Never lose it," she said with a sense of urgency in her voice that surprised him.

Aragorn didn't ask about her reasoning. He reached with his free hand for hers and carefully unclasped the silver trinket.

"If you are weaponless, touch one of the charms, and you will have one. Its specific technology and magic that allows for covert storage of weapons," she explained.

"I will keep it with me," he promised.

She smiled. Aragorn leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her brow. Brianna raised the back of his hand to her lips before releasing it and stepping away from him.

"Thank you, Strider," she said.

"And you, huntress."

With that he left her on the path. He only looked back when he was certain she couldn't see him and saw the tears stream down her cheeks. It took everything in his power not to return and keep going towards Rivendell.

 _I love you,_ he thought and then cloaked himself with the descending night.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 **Enemies Abroad**

 **Author's Note:** _Rejoice! I've updated this fic before the end of the month! So exciting :)! ALSO! I am posting a link to the first four chapters of my original story, Elf-Beast! If you guys want to begin reading it go right ahead and head to my profile and start reading away!_

* * *

Hecate had gone into labor months before her original time. Daenith had not been allowed into the birthing chamber by Aries or Hades and both stayed in the waiting hall to keep her as far away from the last rites her coven-sister intended to cast in order to solidify the body for The Dark Lord. Sauron, himself, attended her and by the sorceress' unearthly screams Daenith knew he was not being kind to her. Hades stood near the window of Sauron's tower staring out into the desolate landscape of Mordor. His arms were crossed over his chest and the back of his head faced both her and Aries.

"We will need my niece soon, the closer Sauron's man-child grows into maturity," he said.

"My little niece will eventually be in my grasp. I intend to dispatch Daenith to Isengard tomorrow morning. She will join Nyx and Erebus in their hunt for her," Aries replied.

Hades shook his head, "No, don't send Daenith on those excursions. Keep her in Isengard where she can cast the necessary curses when our niece passes close. I want her preserved for as long as possible until she can infect Aracasse."

Daenith fought against a violent shudder when Hecate released a shriek of such pain and suffering she was certain her sister-witch had died soon after. When her mutterings filled the room beyond once more she clenched her jaw again.

 _When will this be over?_ She wondered.

"I look forward to sharing my bed with her. Those likenesses Mab had shown me are quite enticing," Aries remarked thickly.

Daenith pulled a face. It seemed as if Aries was as much of a pig as Hecate and Nyx remembered. Hades turned to him, lips pulled into a smirk, and stepped up to his eldest nephew. A low, dark laugh left his throat and Daenith swallowed.

"Of course, nephew, she will be yours, but I call her maidenhead, you know this. As her eldest living relative I must make sure she is pure," he purred.

Aries' lips thinned and Daenith watched his hands clench at his side. She understood the anger. Hades was establishing dominance over the situation and he was taking away the triumph of his nephew. Aries, as far as Hades was concerned, was a pawn in his game. She glanced at the younger knight elven prince and wondered what it would have been like to serve him as the ellon who would bring them glory and defeat the forces of The Triune once and for all. It was a pity that Sauron proved to be the most competent and powerful of the two.

 _And it is with Sauron I will be able to avenge Hecate,_ she thought.

A final wail pierced the tower and fell just as quickly into silence. Daenith held her breath. When she heard nothing else she bowed her head in silent respect. Hecate, her blood-sister, had died in a more worthy cause than the ones of Hades and Aries. Her sacrifice would be remembered.

The door opened and a dark clad vampiress stepped through the door and nodded to them. Followed closely was a sorceress - one of Hecate's acolytes - who held a wrapped bundle that was larger than the average newborn child. Its head turned to them and Daenith's eyes grew wide. The eyes gleamed a bright red-orange and the face was not one of a child's.

Her knees felt weak as the sorceress brought the child forward and set it on the ground upright. The Dark Lord Sauron began to speak in a raspy bass voice that sent shimmers of heat and malice into the air. The body morphed and grew until the child was the size of an eight-year-old. He struggled to his feet and sent a nod to Hades and Aries.

"We will begin the process of maintaining this body," a deep voice that didn't fit the child's body told them.

Her heart stopped. Hecate had poured every ounce of her power in accelerating the process. She succeeded and had created what was possibly her most terrifying child to date.

 _Her last work for the cause,_ she thought.

Hades stepped forward, "I've prepared baths to help keep the body from rejecting you. Once a day should keep up with the need to rejuvenate the power."

The Dark Lord nodded and looked to the sorceress and the vampiress. The command he issued them was silent and they obeyed him instantly as they jumped to attention and helped the diminished being out of the birthing chambers and into the halls beyond. Hades turned and fixed her with a hard stare. Daenith met his gaze with equal intensity.

"Go," he said, "prepare for your pending journey. My nephew and I will take care of the sorceress' body."

Unable to voice an objection and bound to what Hades and Aries decreed, Daenith dipped into a partial bow before whirling around and sauntering as calmly as she could manage out of their sights. None of them deserved her loyalty! Hecate was her coven-sister, a once strong and noble person, and they all contributed to her demise. She would not forget this. There would be a reckoning.

* * *

Brianna felt as much of a robot as the outward mask she presented. After the heavily implied understanding that passed between she and Aragorn a sickness of the heart had settled. In some moments when the company stopped for a brief break she caught herself staring forlornly into a bush or past a tree. The nights they elected to sleep were worse. Nightmares plagued her and every thought and action grew in abject horror as the horrific memories she relived replaced Alyan, Judah, and sometimes Allyson with a beaten, battered, and bloody ranger. While Brianna knew for a fact that she didn't move or speak when she slept and dreamed there were moments when she'd wake cold and sweating with Arwen or Glorfindel watching her grimly.

These weren't useful feelings to be experiencing at the present time. Brianna needed a calm heart and a clear mind so she could be better prepared to deal with her enemies when they chose to reveal themselves. Their absence, by no means, meant they had lost interest in her or the ring, so she took one night and compartmentalized her emotions and locked them away. It was a temporary bit of mind magic and relieved her of the feelings of love and loss regarding Aragorn, but the end result turned her slightly more cold and calculating than she typically was when focused on a mission.

Of course her companions noticed. Arwen went so far as to inquire after her mental health to which Brianna took great pains to assure her that she was fine and slight change in attitude was temporary until they reached Lorien. The elleth's expression, as her mind connected the reasons for why Brianna would purposefully block certain emotions, was far too understanding for her comfort.

They ascended into the old mountain roads a week after they left Imladris. Glorfindel took the lead at that point as he had been the one to search for hidden passages over the mountains. Arwen followed closely behind him with Elrohir and Elladan spread wide keeping watch for signs of the enemy. Brianna's mind separated its focus. Her physical sense kept its attention on her little group while her subconscious searched for danger in the air and ground.

"We will try and reach the Small Pass by tomorrow," Glorfindel said, "once there we shall rest and scale the pass in the morning."

Brianna nodded and used the wind to search for this Small Pass the elder elf had mentioned. A few moments passed while her mind rode the wind prodding chilled mountain peeks and damp caves. Then a break in the chain of mountains sucked the wind through. Her subconscious went with it and followed the pass' length. An hour later, as her physical body and present self scaled a patch of loose shale, the wind reached the end of the pass and blew out into the hills beyond.

She felt them immediately, lurking to the south at a river that wound through the mountains, and then directly to the north. She audibly gasped and froze in place as she took everything in. Vaguely, she saw her companions stop and look at her with varying expressions of alarm painted on their faces. Brianna ignored them and inspected her enemies looking for any leaders that might lurk among them. One immediately stood out.

Erebus.

With that she pulled back into herself and separated from the wind and earth. As the elements faded into the background of her mind she blinked and focused, once again, on her companions. They were silent and watched her as still as statues.

"They're waiting for us to cross the mountains. My enemies haven't found the Small Pass as of yet, but they will find us once we cross through," she said

"That is troubling," Glorfindel said calmly.

"What can we do? They're likely searching for us at all likely paths," Elladan said.

Brianna crossed her arms and looked at the pool of loose rubble she stood on. What could they do? Was there a way to avoid the enemy? She was leaning toward a strong negative.

"We can… possibly move right through them," she said. "They were still leagues away from the pass and will probably be so when we actually arrive on the other side."

"They will use spies," Elrohir said.

She nodded, "I can do _something_ about it, but not enough. We'll have to risk it. If we don't then we might as well turn around."

Glorfindel interrupted the debate and said with an air of finality, "We will proceed to the pass and plan from there."

Brianna frowned at him, but didn't say anything. His arm was around Arwen's shoulders. She understood. They all had a stake in reaching Lorien alive. Glorfindel was the eldest among them and, consequently, had the most to lose.

"You're the leader. I trust your judgment. I'll keep an eye out for aerial spies and attacks," she conceded.

They resumed the trek up the mountain slope. Brianna was on edge, all memory of her inner struggles gone for the time being, as the immediate danger of her situation took root. Underneath that paranoia was the bubbling urge to fight off and destroy her enemies so they never harmed another being again.

* * *

Aragorn had chosen Legolas as his tracking companion as they swept south searching for the best route over the mountains. They'd settled on crossing the Mountains at Eregion as the best course south and later riding the Anduin into Rohan. That was about as far as the two of them could figure into Gandalf's plans and they reserved their judgment on whether the wizard would pass through Gondor, or the highlands and marshes. Their journey back to Rivendell was just as uneventful as their journey out and it made Aragorn uneasy. Despite attempts at keeping his thoughts to himself, the elf was astute.

"You are worried, my friend, that worry is a cloak you wear and can't quite seem to release the clasp," Legolas remarked.

"You're observation is accurate, my friend," Aragorn replied after a moment as he moved through the brush, "there is no enemy on this side of the mountain. Their presence hasn't been felt by the land for nearly a fortnight and I am unsettled by this fact."

His elf friend slipped under a low hanging branch and held it out of Aragorn's way as he passed. When they focused on scaling a particularly steep bouldering hill Legolas made his thoughts on the matter known.

"You fear they wait for The Queen's company on the other side of the mountains?" He asked.

Aragorn grunted a confirmation and allowed silence to descend between them broken only by their soft steps carefully along each rock. He was distracted by the possibilities and the likelihood of Brianna meeting danger on the road. There was little doubt that her enemies would hunt her if they knew what she intended to do.

"Do not let their plight distract you, Strider," Legolas said after a while with a tint of admonishment laced in his tone.

"I know," Aragorn replied softly.

As they reached the top of the steep hill Legolas turned to him, eyes filled with pity and understanding, "I know it is difficult to be parted from the one you love, but if you let it consume you our quest will be in peril. We must be of use to Frodo. The ring is a priority and I suspect Brianna knows that."

"My friend," Aragorn said a little sharper than intended.

He checked himself, quelling the anger and frustration churning inside of him, and released it as best he could. It didn't work as well as he would have liked, but it enabled him to refrain from responding harshly to his friend's sound advice.

"Forgive me, I grieve for her loss and worry for her safety. Yet, there's no time for it and pushing it from my mind is difficult," he said.

Legolas placed a comforting hand on Aragorn's shoulder and replied, "My friend, to love and lose is no small plight, but it is one you must put aside for now. If we don't focus on guiding Frodo to the evil realm then we will all die."

Aragorn swallowed and nodded, feeling his youth relative to his friend's. Legolas was nine hundred years older than he - a child to many of his people - but still kept the wisdom of centuries near his heart. One, in particular, Aragorn recalled being told shortly after the fiasco concerning him and Arwen. It had left him with a certain understanding of why she would have rejected a human. Lingering on for hundreds of years after one's mortal spouse had died was difficult; this especially so, when said human could choose immortality and wouldn't.

 _I would for her,_ he thought. _I don't know how I can do it, but for Aracasse I would live for as long as she walked the realms._

* * *

Brianna kept watch every night. Sometimes she'd let the others take over for an hour or two when she felt exhausted. Those were few for her and even when she tried to rest the elements called to her with every step her little company took towards the danger. It shook her blood and bone to the atom and Brianna found that sleep eluded her more often than not.

 _I need coffee. A lot of coffee,_ she thought one night with no small amount of regret.

Arda was so _backwards_ in comparison to earth! It felt strange to her to never hear the whine of a car engine and the sound of wheels hastily moving across the pavement. She found that she missed the smell of the pungent petroleum and the sounds of electrical undercurrents buzzing around her. Most of all, Brianna found that she missed hotels. Where once she would leave on a job and stay the night in a furnished, conditioned, and watered hotel surrounded by restaurants in her 2005 Camry she now had to contend with moving about on foot or horseback.

Brianna liked horses. She liked walking. She did not like the traveling situation she'd been forced to deal with for the past two and a half months. Rivendell was nice - of course it was nice - but it didn't have access to her laptop, kindle, or phone. The fact that she missed her car was another nail to the joint. Then there was the fact that the elves in Arda were woefully behind technologically speaking.

 _This is what happens when you let the enemy run around for so long,_ she thought. _Fighting them gets in the way of scientific progression._

It saddened her that technology her people had during the rise of Egypt's Middle Kingdom was nowhere to be seen in Arda. How did a people who lived so long for so many years neglect to guide the world into a better life as her people had done?

It took three days for Glorfindel to successfully lead them to the pass. They had a number of moments where both he and Brianna recognized spies from the enemy high in the sky. They took measures to deal with them the first day one was spotted by working in tandem to kill it. Then Brianna had used the ink and brush to paint runes on their arms to make them blend into their surroundings from an aerial viewpoint. The runic equation for that feat required exact calculations to work. Brianna had mastered runes long ago when it wasn't obvious she had any sort of ability to manipulate the elements. It had become her trump card in every battle she fought when her enemies believed they had the upper hand.

They'd passed through the rest of the way without incident and arrived at the mouth of the pass. The sides of the pass loomed over them and stretched toward the mid-morning November sun. Blue sky opened its wide arms to hug the earth below. The three mountain peeks Closest to them were high. They seemed to reach for the sky like jagged lancets and thick, white, glaciers capped them for a good thousand feet. Even where they stood Brianna felt the chill of the mountain air as the lower mountains met the higher slopes.

 _One thing's for sure,_ she thought, _there's no way we can scale that._

"I haven't seen these peeks for five hundred years," Arwen breathed.

"Are they as spectacular as you remember?" Glorfindel asked.

"Very."

Brianna met Elrohir and Elladan's eyes and noticed they had purposefully looked anywhere but at their sister and fellow elf lord. She decided not to say anything. After all, not only were they going to lose their beloved sister to the dangers of Arda, but Brianna had given her permission to accompany them on a very dangerous quest. If anyone had a right to feel a little irritated it was them.

"What now?" Elrohir asked. "How are we to deal with the presence of the enemy?"

Brianna exchanged a look with Arwen. The irritation was certainly transparent.

"We have no choice but to go through the pass,"'Glorfindel began, "but how we are to avoid the enemy on the other side is beyond me."

Brianna stepped forward and slipped her pack off of her back and pulled out a thin bundle of cylinders made from parchment strung together with twine. She untied the twine and rolled out the thick bundle of paper to reveal ten hand drawn maps. Elladan released a whistle.

"However did you fit that in your pack?" He asked.

Brianna smiled, "Runes."

She leafed through each map until she found the one that outlined the path from Imladris to the Small Pass. She held it out to Glorfindel whose fingers closed carefully around it.

"I doubt you have to worry about breaking it," she chided with a grin.

He laughed, "I simply don't wish to break such a masterfully drawn visual such as this."

Brianna rolled her eyes and tapped the labeled Small Pass icon on the map, "Where are we supposed to go after we pass through?"

Glorfindel glanced at her, brow raised, but gave his answer anyway, "We are to take the path to the river, Anduin, and follow it down to where Lorien lies. That path may not be open to us; however, if the enemy reaches us before we manage to get there. Even then our path isn't guaranteed to be undisturbed."

Brianna nodded. Her plan would work so long as she wrote the runes down correctly. Arwen leaned over the map and then raised her gaze to Brianna. A light of understanding flickered within.

"You have a plan," she stated.

"Yes," Brianna replied, "I have a plan and if we play our cards right, we might just _not_ die."


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **Lord of Darkness**

 **Author's Note:** _This chapter is probably one of my favorite. There's a Blind Guardian song featured in this chapter for a specific purpose. If you want the full effect, I suggest you listen to it while reading :). There are some "trigger" worthy scenes in here, so keep that in mind while you're reading. While you do that, remember why this story's rated M._

 _Have fun!_

* * *

The plan had been fool proof.

Brianna's idea to execute a sneaky way to make it to the end of the Small Pass then use a complicated runic equation to transport them to the banks of the Anduin would have worked. The problem was expectations. Brianna had known Erebus' people were looking for her in particular, but she hadn't thought him smart enough to use the one animal that could locate her.

Dark grey clouds dusted into the cracks of the pass. Their collective vision was impaired which forced Brianna to rely solely on her extra senses in the air, its moisture, and the ground, itself. Glorfindel knew when they made it to the end of the pass, so they remained within its high walls while Brianna searched through her notes for the equation she kept on hand for purposes such as this. This, of course, is when her senses spiked with awareness of a particular being that had been known to Greek Mythology as daimons. They were made up of a myriad of dark elemental creatures with various terrible powers meant to harm and destroy only. Erebus was intelligent enough to use the ones connected to Enith Gilthaes. Those daimons were expert trackers in most regards, but they loved to feed off of the cellular energy of a person - elven or not - who held a direct connection with the element. Brianna happened to be a prime target in that regard.

She only finished the first set of equations when the daimons attacked. Brianna had just enough time to figure out something was wrong before they were overwhelmed by the essence-sucking beasts. Daimons, as mentioned earlier, varied by type. These happened to resemble emaciated women with long stringy hair that seemed to have been practically made of tar. Their purple eyes were the first things she saw from the gloom of the dim late afternoon as they gleamed down at them with their hungry expressions. The sight made her heart jump into her throat.

They went for her first, of course, and Brianna hastily destroyed the ground around her to cover up the tell-tale runic marks that would have given away their purpose. Arwen surprised her when she whirled upon the first wave before Glorfindel had thought to draw his sword and lopped the first two daimon's heads off in two swift slashes of her long, slender blade. The older elf lord followed closely behind his betrothed, a long broad sword gleaming with an almost other worldly light. Elrohir and Elladan drew their bows and moved like twin lightening bolts slapping away the oncoming creatures and successfully following through with an arrow into their hearts.

Brianna drew her long knives from their sheaths at her sides and moved towards the next oncoming group. She stabbed one in the heart, twisted, and decapitated another one. The blade flipped out of the one she stabbed and slashed at the neck of another one. This one was slightly smarter than the first two had been and managed to lurch out of her way. Releasing a feral growl, Brianna flipped around and kicked it's feet out from under it. As the daimon thudded against the rocky earth Brianna's knife flashed and plunged past it's ribcage and into its heart.

"Make for the entrance! Get out into the open!" Glorfindel yelled over the din of moaning.

Brianna didn't think twice about waiting for the rest of the group. She threw herself at the twenty or so daimen blocking their way out and viciously slaughtered each and every one of them. Sickly green and yellow blood coated her arms and legs. Her eyes flashed as one particularly evil looking daimon grabbed her by the braid and pulled her head around. A pained hiss escaped her lips then turned into a grunt as she lifted her knife and slashed it twice across the thing's neck. The body crumbled into dust as its head rolled into the feet of another daimon. Two arrows found their mark in its heart. She threw a nod over her shoulder to whoever fired the arrow and threw a violent gust of wind at the remaining daimon at the pass's entrance. They blew threw the opening and allowed her and what she assumed was the rest of the group to pass through.

They ran north instead of south to where Brianna felt the growth of a copse of trees and no sign of their enemies lurking in the background. She bent the light around them and tried to hide them as best she could. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to concentrate on more things at once - trying to keep all of them alive. The small gathering of trees appeared in the distant foreground and grew larger as they approached. Brianna didn't slow, she didn't stop concentrating on the light and on the whereabouts of their attackers, until they were deep into the cover of the tree canopy.

When she turned only Elrohir and Elladan stared back at her. It only took the twins a moment to realize what she had. Two if their group were missing. Arwen and Glorfindel were nowhere to be found.

* * *

Arwen knew where she was. She was hiding in a very small cave on the side of the mountain watching a tall elf approach a barely conscious Glorfindel. He wasn't like any elf she'd seen before. His hair was a sickly pale - like curdled milk - and his eyes were red like blood. He swatted away the two creatures Brianna termed as daimon like they were little more than flies. His sapphire hand reached down and grabbed Glorfindel's head and jerked it from it's limp lull. He forced him to meet his gaze and grinned like a feral cat.

"Well, well! This is exciting! I've caught one of the good doctor's original companions from the fjord! I'm quite pleased with this special turn of events," he said in a voice like smooth honey and soft caresses.

Arwen felt the magic of that voice and forced it away from her subconscious. Softly, hoping no one would hear, she hummed a tune for protection that her father had taught her. Glorfindel chuckled weakly and caused her heart to constrict painfully in her chest.

"And I remember you are named Erebus," he rasped.

Arwen saw her love's body shake from the attack it had recently been under. This Erebus bared his teeth and kicked his stomach. Glorfindel gasped and sagged. He wasn't allowed to fall; however, as Erebus continued to have hold of his hair. She heard him gasp in pain and watched violent tremors wrack his body.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she willed them away. The song needed to continue. If she fell to this elf's voice then there was no hope for them. Arwen forced herself to remain calm, collected, and to continue the song.

 _I am of the blood of Luthien Tinuviel. I am as close to her likeness as any before me. I must remain strong in the face of this evil. If Tinuviel can defy Morgoth then I can defy the false beauty of this dark one's voice,_ she told herself.

She wasn't Luthien. She couldn't shroud herself with song and move invisibly among her enemies to whisk her love away. There was so much she couldn't do, but wished was possible in that moment her voice almost faltered. Determination alone kept her concentration from waning.

"I'm sure you do," Erebus said and Arwen started by how gruff his voice turned, "and I'm sure you remember why I came for you in the first place. I seek a pretty elf maiden by the name of Doctor Brianna Davis. I know she is in your company. I know her purpose is to hunt us and sniff out our plans. She has such the lovely reputation and my lord would prefer she no longer be a threat."

Glorfindel spat in his face. Arwen wasn't sure where he found the strength to do so, but he did. He had killed a Balrog in the past, she knew, but it seemed that whatever sort of creature a daimon was it's touch and bite caused great weakness in its victim. Brianna had likely known that which explained her command to run.

A shudder trembled the length of her spine. The memory of Brianna fighting those creatures was something she didn't want to see again. It struck Arwen, in that moment, that Brianna had held back when they trained. The way she fought was feral, merciless, and very calculating.

Erebus shoved Glorfindel to the ground and nodded to three elves that approached him from behind, "Take him to our camp. I'll be interested in seeing what I can squeeze out of this lord's pretty blond head."

Arwen observed the three elves and felt more stunned than horrified by their appearance. All three were tall. One was female. Each had different shades of black, white, or grey skin. The female's skin was white - near translucent - and her hair was black as pitch. Yellow eyes gleamed at Glorfindel as dark red lips quirked into a hungry smile. Arwen reminded herself to keep her cool, reminded herself that she couldn't do more than remained concealed, and reminded herself that Brianna and her brothers would have noticed them missing and look for them.

 _They must have escaped,_ she thought.

It was in that moment Erebus turned to look directly at her and Arwen's voice cracked. He smiled, red eyes flashing, as he took a step towards her. Arwen froze as his laugh pieced her carefully woven cocoon of magic and caused her body to flush from head to toe.

"My day must be getting better. Here we have a pretty little lost elf maiden," he purred.

Arwen felt his spell descend on her psyche as she realized she was caught. Erebus knelt before and placed a marbled hand on her neck. She shuddered as fear and something else completely foreign to her overcame her.

"I think you're with blondie, is that right, my pet?" He asked.

To her horror, Arwen found herself nodding her head. She couldn't stop herself and the more he spoke the more her self slipped further away into the dream realm - to watch and never interact. Arwen did the last thing she could think of. As Erebus worked his fell magic she drew the most powerful song she could think of into her mind and created a great wall - blocking anymore attempts to gather information from her.

* * *

Brianna opened her eyes and looked at the twin sons of Lord Elrond gravely. While she hadn't been able to see what exactly went on, she had been able to feel it and hear it in the earth and wind. What had been revealed to her chilled her to the bone.

"They have them. Glorfindel's weak from the daimon attack and the bastard, Erebus, has put Arwen under a spell," she said softly.

Elrohir's expression turned dark, "We should not have allowed our sister to come."

Brianna glared at him, "If we didn't we would have had more trouble getting out of that daimon attack. Stop being stupid and help me think. We need to save them and I need to figure out a way to get us to the Anduin!"

Elladan, surprisingly, was the more reasonable of the two, "It's too late for this argument, brother. Lady Brianna is correct in saying we must think of the present moment. This Erebus is after her and will likely try to get information out of them. We must rescue them before too much damage is done."

Brianna leaned against the closest tree and closed her eyes. The day's events left her feeling drained and ready to return to the wonderful world if dreams and sleep. It was a fanciful notion - a part of her that craved normalcy and peace and rejected the need to fight - but she allowed it to enter her mind for a moment and then gently shoved it away.

She opened her eyes and met the gazes of Elrohir and Elladan, "There are runes that can make it impossible for the daimons to notice us. They'll only last so long, but long enough to get us into their camp and rescue Arwen and Glorfindel."

Elrohir looked contemplative before inclining his head, "My brother and I will lead the attack."

"And I will make sure Glorfindel and Arwen are in my runic circle while I work on it," Brianna said.

"That will be a gamble," Elladan remarked.

Brianna shrugged, "We need to get out of here quickly. If we wait they will hunt us again. I want our scents to be cold for several days before they find it again. Hopefully by then we'll be gone."

Elladan seemed to consider this for a moment before he, too, nodded his consent, "We will need to be the ones who distract them. You will need to be prepared. Can you have this equation completely prepared?"

Brianna nodded, "As prepared as I can make it."

Elrohir stood from where he knelt and shouldered his bow, "Take fifteen minutes to prepare, then we will move. Time is of the essence."

Brianna pursed her lips, but nodded all the same. The sentiment was shared and it disappointed her to find that Elrohir and Elladan assumed such wasn't the case. It didn't surprise her that they didn't know. Aragorn didn't know every dark thing about her and she told him a part of it. Not the whole, never the whole, lest he think less of her for how broken she'd been in the past and how broken it still made her.

She closed her eyes again and created the image if a blank sheet of paper in her mind. Then she allowed the runic equation to slowly fade into view on that paper and begin the process of imprinting on the landscape of her memory. They wanted it fast. She'd make sure she delivered.

* * *

Glorfindel had known he was locked in a nightmare of pain and weakness, but he hadn't been prepared for the moment when Arwen was brought into the camp by a smug Erebus. One evil hand grasped the back of her neck, but didn't force her movement forward. She approached him willingly, eyes blank and all muscles relaxed. A strangled cry pushed past his lips and he struggled against his bonds.

"Release her, swine!" He hissed.

Erebus chuckled and took his hand away from her neck to trail it along her arm. Glorfindel froze, heart thudding wildly against his chest. The knight elf grinned at him and leaned over to sniff Arwen's hair.

"I'd debated how I could use her. Clever little minx blocked her mind from me, so I knew I couldn't use her for information. You; however, happen to love this girl and I suspect you will do anything to keep her from harm. How about a deal? If you tell me what I want to know about the good doctor, I won't take your beloved in front of you?" He purred.

Glorfindel felt sick. In his eight thousand years of living he'd never been met with such a horrifying reality. He'd never loved anyone the way he loved Arwen. Erebus, it seemed, wasn't one to use the knife to torture and kill. His method was worse and would destroy the both of them. But, he couldn't - wouldn't - reveal anything even for her. If he did, if he gave into the pain and the fear, then more would be lost than Arwen's virginity and his sanity. Saving her wasn't worth the world.

His eyes narrowed.

 _But if Erebus doesn't think there won't be retribution for this, he is a bigger fool than I thought,_ he thought.

Glorfindel's strength was returning. It would clearly be a slow process, but he felt it all the same. Erebus' first mistake was assuming that he would remain weak for a certain amount of time. Believing so was folly as he was a Balrog Slayer, one of the elves of Gondolin, and powerful enough to resist Sauron and The Nine. No, Erebus made a grave error by assuming Glorfindel wouldn't be able to use the weapons still strapped to his side, leg, and back.

"Forgive me, Arwen," he said softly, hoping she would hear him.

Her blank eyes didn't give any indication that she'd heard him. It made his heart break. It would kill him, he knew, to let this happen, to allow them to hurt her in this way, but revealing all was our of the question.

Erebus cackled and glanced down at Arwen, "Did you hear that, pet? Your lover doesn't seem to care for you enough to protect you!"

Glorfindel closed his eyes and looked away for a moment to regain composure. He needed that moment to remember the spark in her eyes, her smile, her gentle heart, and how determined she was to protect him and help her friend. Would she want him to let this happen? No. Would she accept it? He hoped so. Would she forgive him? He wouldn't blame her if she never did.

"I love you, Arwen," he whispered and opened his eyes, determined to watch the evil he was about to let happen.

* * *

Brianna watched from the trees and could practically feel the conflicting emotions radiating from Elrohir and Elladan as their sister stood before a weak and tied up Glorfindel about to get raped. Erebus' hands wondered her covered body clearly anticipating the act. She understood why they were so conflicted. Artemis had placed her in similar situations time and time again that left her feeling disgusted with herself and her aunt while also trying to figure out what was best. Glorfindel loved Arwen, it was as clear as day to her as his eyes flashed with both despair and rage, and Brianna had little doubt the elf lord would enact retribution once his strength returned. If Erebus didn't decide to kill him first.

She turned her eyes to Arwen. If she had erected a mental wall against him then there was a possibility that the majority of her mind was susceptible to being coaxed out. It took a moment for her to dispel the discomfort at invading her very private place. It took another moment to settle into a place where she could reach out with her mind and touch Arwen's.

On earth, all elves had some ability to touch minds. Very few had the power to influence minds that were not their own. Magic of mentality was an aspect of enith gilthaes and one Brianna never felt completely comfortable learning let alone using. With the way Erebus' curse wrapped itself around Arwen's senses, entering the elleth's mind was the only thing she could do that would enable her to be freed.

Brianna breathed and began to search for a way in. A way in made itself known - a small chink in Erebus' dark enchantment - and she slipped through that crack and searched for a way to contact her. Erebus had done a number on her surface thoughts, emotions, and desire to please. She felt the constant state of euphoria she was in and caught the orders Erebus gave her echoed in her mind as thoughts. There real Arwen was there. Nestled in the back of her mind and encased in a song Brianna didn't recognize.

" _Arwen!"_ She called into that song.

There was no response from Arwen or Erebus. Brianna fought away the waves of frustration that threatened to overwhelm her that moment and took a moment to think. Arwen's magic was song. Song seemed to be a magic the elves in Arda learned. There was certainly an echo of it whenever she used the elements and the moments Brianna had sung to the elves…

" _I'm going about this all wrong, yes?"_ She asked the unresponsive Arwen, " _There's only one way to reach you."_

What was a good one? Something classical? No, none that she knew off the top of her head. Pop was out of the question and so was most rock. Metal; however, could be both pleasant and jarring if she picked the right person. There was one she had in mind though how effective it would be she didn't know.

The music began: rain the the storm. She remembered the soft picks of the electric guitar and began to sing:

" _ **To the gods of the north I pray,**_

" _ **And raise my cup for the fallen ones!**_

" _ **Then I cry,**_

" _ **In Valhalla they'll sing!"**_

The jarring sound of the electric guitar chords, drums, and the myriad of other instruments Blind Guardian used brought Arwen's interest, but didn't succeed in bringing her out of herself. Brianna heard the faltered note in the song before she picked it up again. She moved closer to where that song of adamant held and directed hers to form a cocoon around it. Erebus wouldn't be able to break through, but it would allow her to coax Arwen out of her shell safely.

" _ **Rain**_

" _ **Red blood keeps pouring down**_

" _ **Come Valkyries, join me on that final ride**_

" _ **Here I lie bleeding**_

" _ **Odin, I await thee**_

" _ **The battle rages on**_

" _ **New lines they're weaving**_

" _ **The future, the past and the present**_

" _ **They're one**_

" _ **They will reveal their mask**_

" _ **To show me a way to survive**_

" _ **This bitter war."**_

" _ **Soon it will be over**_

" _ **He will be the one**_

" _ **We'll weave in**_

" _ **And terror will now rule these lands**_

" _ **When the battle is lost**_

" _ **And the slain ones are chosen**_

" _ **Valkyries will guide us home**_

" _ **When the battle is lost**_

" _ **And the slain ones are chosen**_

" _ **Valkyries will guide us home!"**_

It was strange. It was as if Arwen knew her voice, but didn't quite want to believe that Brianna had come. The elder elf maid's song remained steadfast despite it perking up at her voice and the strange instruments Brianna introduced to her.

" _ **Destiny**_

" _ **A spinning wheel**_

" _ **The path of glory**_

" _ **Round and round**_

" _ **Come join us**_

" _ **On your final ride to Asgard**_

" _ **Let's move on fast**_

" _ **Our father awaits**_

" _ **So let's heed the final call**_

" _ **For now**_

" _ **We leave this world behind**_

" _ **It's over**_

" _ **All glory to the brave**_

" _ **Still blood will rain**_

" _ **Through storm and fire**_

" _ **Let war winds reign**_

" _ **It's the feast for the crows."**_

" _ **Follow the light, the light**_

" _ **Just follow the light, the light**_

" _ **Or fade away**_

" _ **Soon it will be over**_

" _ **He will be the one**_

" _ **We'll weave in**_

" _ **And terror will now rule these lands."**_

" _ **When the battle is lost**_

" _ **And the slain ones are chosen**_

" _ **Valkyries will guide us home**_

" _ **When the battle is lost**_

" _ **And the slain ones are chosen**_

" _ **Valkyries will guide us home!"**_

From somewhere beyond, in the part of her that remained in her body, she felt the beginnings of an ear splitting headache piece the comfort of her head. It was a side effect of Mind Magic; especially when one added the instrumentals of music they were trying to convey to another person. The stress of keeping Erebus both away from Arwen and non-the-wiser to Brianna's presence. If this rescue was going to succeed they needed Arwen fully conscious and cooperative.

" _ **We'll keep on weaving**_

" _ **We're crushing through lines**_

" _ **With our battering swords**_

" _ **We're marching on**_

" _ **Assign the brave**_

" _ **To survive**_

" _ **This bitter war**_

" _ **Soon it will be over**_

" _ **He will be the one**_

" _ **We'll weave in**_

" _ **And terror will now rule these lands."**_

" _ **When the battle is lost**_

" _ **And the slain ones are chosen**_

" _ **Valkyries will guide us home**_

" _ **When the battle is lost**_

" _ **And the slain ones are chosen**_

" _ **The Valkyries will guide us home**_

" _ **We'll heed the final call**_

" _ **A call to arms**_

" _ **The Valkyries will guide us home!"**_

Finally, for a reason Brianna never fully understood, Arwen's song ended and the image of the daughter of Elrond stood before her in what Brianna could only guess was how she saw herself. There was something subdued about her beauty, as if she thought herself less than what she really was. Her friend's expression was both impressed and confused and as Brianna ended the song she stepped forward.

" _ **Then finally I hear them say**_

" _ **Carry on**_

" _ **For Valhalla awaits you."**_

 _ **(Valkyries by Blind Guardian. Album: At the Edge of Time, 2010)**_

Once the music faded Brianna allowed the curse to creep closer. Arwen, alarmed, stepped back and tried to begin another song. Brianna resorted to the opening of a Metallica song to shut her up. Stunned, stricken, and clearly afraid Arwen merely gaped at her.

" _Stop this, Arwen! If you can hold the bastard back, you can kick him out of your head! Do you know what he's going to do? You realize Glorfindel will have to watch him hurt you just to break him? Wake up!"_ She snapped.

The curse approached. Brianna stepped forward and slapped Arwen across one cheek. She let out a startled shriek and staggered away from her. Brianna grabbed her shoulders to keep her from retreating further.

" _Stand up to him! Fight him! If you don't he will rape you! Fight! It's your mind, your body, take it back!"_

Something seemed to change within her. Arwen's eyes, once scared and uncertain, hardened. Thoughts echoed past her subconscious and into the forefront of her mind. The curse tried to devour them, but found that those thoughts fought back. Brianna watched as Arwen began to fight, wrestle, and then finally, with a sudden strong note that pulsed through her mind, and then pushed Erebus out of her. Brianna departed back into her body then to watch as Erebus' hand slid down to the lacings of Arwen's vest. Awareness faded back into her eyes and, as those blue figure pads undid the strings at the top of her lacings, she whirled around and elbowed him in the throat - a move Brianna had taught her back in Rivendell.

Brianna smirked and gave Elrohir and Elladan the signal to attack.

* * *

Arwen's awareness completely faded back into reality when she turned around and drew her knife from her belt to attempt to stab it into Erebus' stomach. He wisely stepped away and began pooling thick, black tendrils of darkness into his hand. That was around the time an arrow thudded into his chest right where his heart should have been.

The dark one hissed and turned his attack in the direction of the arrow, but Arwen shoved him into the crowd of daimen and two of the other knight elves in the group. He staggered into them, but remained upright and whirled on her with a snarl marring his face. Elladan stepped from the shadows, twin blades drawn and ready to kill. Elrohir stepped out from the shadows a moment later, arrow drawn back and ready to strike. They were severely outnumbered, but a certain glint in their eyes told her that they'd been privy to Erebus' intentions and were out for blood.

As they engaged the enemy, Arwen hesitated. She could fight, but Glorfindel was hurt. Something stirred in her navel and she turned, responding to a call that went beyond her love for him and echoed within a part of her that always existed, but was rarely acknowledged. Her love looked stronger than he had before, but his body had clearly gone through additional abuse at the knight elves' hands. Carefully, she knelt before him and used her knife to release him from his bonds.

Glorfindel sagged forward and wrapped his arms around her, face buried in the crook of her neck. She returned his embrace and allowed herself to feel the comfort of his arms around her before gently pushing him away.

"We must go," she said.

"Arwen -."

"No, mellon nin, you're injured. Let my brothers rescue us," she said.

"Not needed."

They started and looked to find Brianna beside them. When had she moved? The elven queen grinned, knelt to the ground, and closed her eyes.

"Stay behind me and don't move. We've modified the original plan to make sure we get everyone to safety," she said.

Arwen watched, fascinated, as Brianna held out her arms and moved the earth. Runes from her world etched themselves deep into the dirt. They were the runes from before, when Brianna had first attempted the move from the pass to the Anduin. Parts of what she assumed were numbers had already been modified to accommodate the new location. A second and third line appeared, bending around into a circle around them. The air sparked.

"Elrohir! Elladan! Get over here!" She called.

They did just as the fourth line was etched into the ground. Arwen blinked and the world moved. It rushed past her in a jumble of colors and sparks. When the world stopped moving Arwen found herself surrounded by water gently rushing past her in a lazy current. She looked around. They were in the shallow end of a great river's west bank.

"Oops, math was a bit off," Brianna remarked.

Glorfindel laughed. It sounded only a little forced to Arwen's ears, but after the terror he'd experienced only moments earlier, the fact didn't surprise her. Arwen helped her fiancée to his feet.

"We are here. This is the Anduin," Glorfindel said.

Brianna released an audible sigh, "Oh good! I'd hate for that not to be the case."

Arwen smiled and helped Glorfindel out of the water. Brianna and her brothers followed closely behind. All three of them looked tense as they glanced around. Brianna's eyes looked slightly vacant. This signaled to Arwen that she was using her magic to check for their enemies. Once Brianna stepped onto the bank her eyes regained their focus and a little tension left her.

"We're safe for now, but we'll need to move soon. Erebus can track us if he puts his mind to it, so we best be far from here soon," she said.

"Glorfindel will need at least another hour," Elrohir said.

Brianna nodded, "I'm aware of that. We should be able to have that hour. Until then, I'll protect the area with runes to make tracking us just a little bit more difficult."

She moved away from them and began checking the perimeter. Arwen watched her for a moment before turning her full attention to Glorfindel. His head was tilted away from her, eyes downcast. It made her heart bleed. To be placed in the position he was in only to later face both relief and regret, must have hurt him more than she could fathom.

"Thank you, my love, for not giving in," she whispered as she helped him to the ground and began checking the wounds on his body.

His green eyes darted to her, startled, "Arwen. Do not thank me for what I did. Please."

She met his gaze and hissed, "If you had said anything you would not be the one I love. Don't you dare apologize for choosing the world before me!"

Despair seemed to overcome him then and he reached up his hand to cup her cheek. Arwen didn't flinch away from his grasp, but continued to meet those beautiful green eyes. Her hard expression softened and she leaned into his touch.

"Forgive me, Arwen. I… I couldn't protect you from him. He was… he was going to hurt you. I could do nothing," he whispered.

"I know."

They gazed at each other, eyes sad, but Arwen tried to convey understanding as well. She understood they were in dark times. She knew their decisions would be difficult and heart wrenching. She knew that there was a high chance of dying, or worse. She knew and accepted it for what it was because the thought of being parted from him, waiting for his return to Rivendell and never knowing what had happened if he never returned, was something she couldn't bare.

"I love you," he whispered.

"And I you," she returned softly before placing a chaste kiss tenderly on his lips.

 ** _Arwen/Glorfindel is probably my new OTP. I don't know why, but for some reason this just fits._**


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **Echoes of the Past**

 **Author's Note:** _This chapter is really short and I'm not completely happy with it, but after writing Laurel's POV I couldn't bring myself to add to it. The way her POV ended made the chapter feel complete. So, here it is! Updated twice in a month. I'm participating in CampNaNoWriMo next month, so I don't know if a July update is going to happen._

* * *

Brianna was pleased by Glorfindel's rate of recovery. The elf had been ready to leave the moment he could stand and walk on his own. It helped get them on their way, but she did notice he took greater care of being near Arwen as they skirted the west bank of the Anduin. For a moment, it annoyed her, but as she thought about her own past and the consequences of certain careless decisions that resulted in the deaths of the men she loved Brianna discovered that she couldn't bring herself to feel annoyed. The fact remained that Glorfindel had almost lost Arwen in one way or another due to Brianna and her brothers' negligence. If he didn't trust them to take care of her the way he felt he could she couldn't blame him.

Elrohir and Elladan certainly didn't seem to mind their new traveling formation. Both knew the way to Lorien just as well as Glorfindel and Arwen did, so both took turns being in the lead. Brianna always remained near the back of the line with either one sending out the occasional feeler to check on the status of their enemies. As it stood, Erebus and his cohorts remained far in the north trying to figure out exactly where Brianna had whisked everyone away to. After all, it wasn't like they knew where they were going and, as Erebus didn't know the land particularly well, wouldn't be able to hazard a close guess. The further away from the north they traveled the less Brianna checked for enemies. Once they were three days passed the "Old Fjord", she restricted herself to checking for enemies twice a day and took time to scout around the proximity to remain vigilant, but for the most part she allowed herself time to relax.

One night, they took a moment to stop for two hours and eat and also discuss the situation as it currently stood. No fires were lit, hard cheese and elven bread was the chosen meal, and everyone's expressions ranged from relieved to grave. There had been no sign of their enemies. Erebus hadn't discovered where they went which caused mixed opinions about whether the fact was good or bad.

"I can't think that they won't find us eventually," Brianna remarked.

"It is concerning," Elrohir agreed, "I would have thought our efforts would be primarily focused on evasion instead of tracking."

The brothers had seemed to look more favorably on her after rescuing Glorfindel and Arwen. The circumstances behind that rescue and the horror their sister almost went through had unsettled everyone. Brianna knew a bit of what she would have been subjected to. When she'd been a prisoner of Ba'al's he'd tortured her in ways that likely would have broken Arwen beyond recognition. He never tried to touch her. That "honor" was supposed to happen later when she would be ritualistically bound to him. Before that, she watched as he took her best friend Allyson and flayed parts of her then lover Alyan. When her team had come for her, Allyson was dead - torso completely torn open in order to remove the child Ba'al had forced her to conceive - and Alyan was dying and completely beyond recognition. Maf hadn't let her see Alyan until he breathed his last a week later. Allyson was the one she'd seen first. Sometimes, the memory plagued her dreams and made it impossible for her to sleep at night. Brianna was glad she was an instrument in preventing Allyson's horror from happening to Arwen.

"I'd rather avoid meeting them again, if possible," she said, "how much longer before we get there?"

"We have another week before we are close," Elladan said, "then another four days before we approach Lorien. It will take us two days to arrive in Caras Galadhorn. We should be wary of meeting with our enemies given how much ground there is yet to cover."

Brianna had nodded and replied, "I've maintained a general perimeter, but if you think I should check more often I will."

"It might be best, Brianna," Glorfindel had replied, face graver than was typical, "I won't feel easy until we reach the borders."

"Good. We'll remain vigilant until then. Keep up with our current formation. Our healer needs to be protected at all costs," Brianna said, effectively ending the conversation.

It was generally understood, at that point, that Arwen was their weakest and greatest strength. It had surprised Brianna to discover the daughter of Elrond's healing capabilities. Her work on Glorfindel's general injuries made his recovery process faster and when she began peppering her with questions she found the elf's knowledge vast and expansive. Even if Glorfindel and her brothers resented her for allowing Arwen to accompany them she resolved not to regret it. Had an Arwen been on the road with Aragorn and the Hobbits something may have been done to help Frodo before his wound had become as bad as it had.

She said as much to Arwen one night when the elleth had asked about the sudden change in the way Brianna and her brothers treated her on the march and at camp. To this Arwen had smiled fondly and looked to the distant horizon. Brianna had looked at her then, really looked at her, and wondered what exactly their relationship was. From what she understood from her brothers and Aragorn, himself, Arwen hadn't been around much during the man's childhood.

"Aragorn spent several nights with my father improving his healing craft. I'd never seen him quite so determined to improve as I did weeks ago," she said with a smile.

Brianna, who had purposefully placed all thoughts of Aragorn far to the back of her mind, started at the mention of him and replied, "I thought he was more of a warrior than a healer?"

Arwen's gaze looked both sad and fond when she replied, "Aragorn, I think, wishes to be both."

In that moment, Brianna asked a question that changed her outlook on everything that had happened in her life up to that point, "What is he to you? A brother?"

That gaze turned from sad to regretful, "Now, I see him as a brother, but once I believed him to be something more."

Startled, Brianna had asked, "Once? Were you two…"

She couldn't quite bring herself to voice exactly what she wanted to say. A dark pit of something had formed around her stomach and it took everything in Brianna's power to push it away, far into that box Brianna needed it to remain in.

Arwen; however, didn't notice Brianna's discomfort at the subject and seemed to be lost in the trance of memory. Brianna would never forget the expression in her eyes - the way her lips curled into a sad frown - as the sands of time began to catch up to her in its walled storm.

"When he was younger, Aragorn expressed a romantic interest in me. I foolishly allowed that partiality to grow and turn into what we both thought was love," here she smiled and remarked, "he mistook me for Luthien and I was gratified by the comparison, though I am a shadow of our mutual ancestor."

Brianna remembered the day she'd plunged into Arwen's mind to rescue her from Erebus' hold. Arwen didn't see herself as a great beauty, nor did she believe herself to be particularly powerful. She knew Aragorn would have looked at her and seen Luthien recast - a piece of history about a pair of ancestors he both revered and respected - and would have been enchanted.

Arwen continued further, "Then I was reacquainted with Glorfindel a year later before Aragorn left for Rohan. In that moment, I discovered that partiality meant nothing when the stars determine another to be your destiny. I told him that he was not mine and it hurt him, but he accepted it and left Imladris to fight the agents of Sauron in the wild and the realms beyond for many years. When he was in Lorien, we met again and his heart was healed and Glorfindel and I had the beginnings of an understanding. He was… happy. I hadn't understood, at first. He professed his love for me all those years ago and I never quite believed he could have healed so thoroughly as he had."

Arwen looked into her eyes then and said, "Then I saw the way he looked at you in the Hall of Fire while you sang, and I knew that he understood what I had decades ago."

Brianna had been unsettled by the declaration then and she continued to be so now. Four days had passed since that conversation and the box Brianna had originally erected for herself to keep thoughts of Aragorn from distracting her had long since disintegrated. She felt sick from the realization that her path, as it stood, veered far away from him and it didn't seem like pursuing anything with him was possible.

She stared into the river as she carefully stepped along a high rocky bank. Trees, thin as wisps of grey smoke grew along the bank on the other side of the Anduin. Long branches trailed from the main trunks and produced thin whip-like little branches with small green leaves growing every few inches like a vine. Fish swam near the bank away from the river's swift current feeling around for food. The sun emerged from behind thick grey clouds and beamed its glittering reflection on the water's surface.

 _Is this my fate? To meet the one who might actually be destined for me only to be forced away from him?_ She wondered.

Brianna pulled a face at the thought and attempted to push it and the emotions accompanying it back into her little mental box. She was busy! She didn't need the distraction, nor did she need to remain in a constant state of self-pity. It was pathetic and did little to help the situation at hand.

"You are distracted."

Brianna shifted her gaze to the sky for a moment before sending Elladan the dirtiest look she could muster and replied, "There isn't any sign of the enemy as far as the land and the wind can tell me. I can have a moment."

The elf looked at her, lips curled into a frown, and followed her gaze to the other side of the river. Beyond the initial glade of willow trees - or what she assumed were willows - was a large, expansive forest that they had yet to pass. Brianna had reached out to it the first day her eyes had settled on it and nearly shuddered at the dark hostility permeating from its earth. She never asked what the forest was called - she hadn't wanted to know - but looking at it left her in a state of disquiet for an extended period of time.

"I remember when the forest was called Greenwood. It was inhabited by the wizard, Radagast, who guarded it and the creatures living within. His departure has left the woodlands hostile and I suspect the only thing keeping it from growing wild is Elven King Thranduil," he said.

Brianna looked at him and studied his face. Elladan seemed to mourn that forest as if he'd lost a dear friend. That was another thing that bewildered her about Arda's elves. They treated the land and its plants as if they were sentient beings. They weren't - for the most part - but something certainly lived among them that controlled a great deal of how the land reacted to those around it. One such being she sensed in the formerly christened Greenwood.

"What is the forest called now?" She asked.

"Mirkwood."

She shuddered, "That fits."

Silence descended between them. It was a companionable silence, one Brianna was grateful for. While she enjoyed the conversation around many people she needed moments of quiet as well. As the days grew darker and the complete purpose of their enemies came to light she suspected those moments would fade. Brianna hoped, she fervently hoped, that whatever it was she would end up doing in Lorien to help fix the situation would actually work.

 _I don't want them to experience this evil longer than they need to,_ she thought. _They are my people and I will protect them, or die trying._

* * *

Professor Laurel Moruni had never set foot in Lothlorien in the days she'd walked Arda's lands before. She had known the Lady Galadriel many years ago in Beleriand a few years after she'd met and later married Celeborn, but the meeting had been brief - about three months - before she had moved on to follow what the Ardanians labeled as the War of Wrath. This enabled her to help keep certain instances in history alive in some form or another. She'd found Luthien - an elf who became mortal for the sake of her human lover - and managed to extract a goodly amount of their tale from her. When it became apparent that her very young student and ward had found herself in Arda and that Mab, the once queen of the fae, had made it her mission to attempt to go there with the help of The Morrighan, the possibility that Morgoth was their intended target had severely unsettled her. After all, the elven libraries contained copies of Laurel's travel journals. It was possible that one of the idiots read it and thought playing with literal dark fire was a good idea. After speaking with the Lady of the Wood for a good three hours she came to believe that such wasn't the case. Despite this newer revelation the gravity of the situation did not lessen. It didn't get worse as far as she knew and hoped that such was still the case as it would be a point in their favor.

Sauron.

She remembered him as some inconsequential thorn in everyone's side (at least, such was her opinion). At the time he'd been a mere servant of Morgoth who had enjoyed doing the Dark One's dirty work for him. As The Lady relayed her new tale to Laurel's ever growing apprehension and Artemis' continually budding concern, it became clear that Sauron was no longer a minion of little consequence. Casually, Laurel glanced at the white ring on Galadriel's forefinger from time to time when the elf woman described the War of the Rings. Isildur, Numenor, hobbits, the Nine, the Seven, High King Gil-Galad of the Noldor, The One Ring, and so much more were revealed that Laurel had to stop Galadriel to procure several pieces of parchment for the purpose of note-taking.

"As far as we know," Galadriel said gravely, "our Enemy is moving and yours along with him. Reports from the South tell of fell beasts and elves using the darkest of magic that are terrorizing the armies standing up to the forces of Mordor."

"Sounds as if we should have thought to bring an army," Artemis remarked.

"Too true," Galadriel had replied, "but we have you, and we have our queen. It will have to be enough."

All in all Laurel supposed the situation could have been better, but probably wasn't as bad as she originally thought it would be. This, in particular, because Galadriel informed her that her son-in-law had sent word to inform her of Brianna's pending arrival. Artemis had perked up at that bit of knowledge. They'd come to Arda to find Brianna and if Brianna came to them it cut out most of their work load. Unfortunately, Laurel suspected their time in Arda was not going to be brief and prepared herself for the long haul.

That initial meeting had ended a week earlier. At this point in our tale, Professor Laurel Moruni was taking the time to read through Celeborn's library in a particularly large Melorn tree the elves had grown to accommodate his large collection of writings. It took a while for her to remember how the world's elvish worked and the various nuances of each dialect, but she eventually worked it out.

"It has been far too long, Laurelie."

The professor looked up from a particular account about the One Ring written by the son of Isildur in the second age of Arda's recorded existence and replied, "I know. I haven't used that name for almost five hundred years. It almost feels too strange to hear it again."

Lady Galadriel glided into the room and gracefully lowered her tall and limber frame into one of the ornately carved wooden seats. Her golden hair fell from her scalp in long cascading waves. Blue eyes watched her intently as if trying to read her mind. Laurel rolled her eyes.

"Your ring doesn't give you power over my mind. I'm a bit too good at mind magic to put up with the attempt. Study for a few thousand years longer without the bloody thing and you might be good enough," she snapped gruffly.

Slowly, a smile spread across Galadriel's face as she replied, "It does my heart well to see you change so little."

Laurel felt, just a bit more charitable towards the woman than she originally had. It wasn't like she didn't understand where the elf woman was coming from. Galadriel had been notorious for seeking both power and knowledge so she could use it to better herself and others around her. She'd always wanted to rule, always wanted to found some great dynasty, and always fell short of completely doing both. The fact that she contented herself with Lorien and an incredibly unambitious Celeborn spoke the wonders of love and reflection and how both can change a person eventually. Even long suffering elves could learn _something_ morally profound after thousands of years of existence.

"I haven't found something to change over yet. Give it time. I'm sure it will happen," Laurel replied dryly.

Galadriel sat in the chair across from her. Silence descended as tended to happen between people who have little in common and very little to say to each other. Laurel glanced at the book she had been reading.

"It's beneficial to read what the children had to say on the matter of the Ring. Valandil seems to have a particularly unique perspective on the matter," Laurel stated.

Galadriel nodded, "Very true. He became King of Arnor at such a young age. The fate of his father haunted him and his sons and daughters for as long as the line has endured."

Laurel frowned and tapped the top of the solid oak table, "And this Aragorn is Isildur's heir."

"Very much so."

"But Brianna isn't with him, she's with the Balrog Slayer and your grandchildren."

"Such as I have seen, and I have seen much."

"Hmm."

The situation wasn't ideal. The Space Between Galaxies had been ripped open. She could feel the walls crumbling every moment of the weeks she's resided in Lorien. Every breath she breathed stank of the dark magic used to taint the world. Once she was able to observe the damage from Arda's perspective Laurel was able to conclude where the damage had first been wrought: Mordor from Arda's side. Which meant that the only way they would be able to fix it is if they used Ardanian magic. They needed Brianna to learn how to repair the rip. Without her power acting as a base even she, one of the most skilled wielders of magic to walk the cosmos, wouldn't be able to make a dent in undoing the damage.

"She'll have to sing. We'll all need to sing," Laurel guessed.

Galadriel nodded, "In all instances, that is what I've seen."

"Of course."

Laurel looked out a round hollow, lips curled into a frown, and green eyes dimming ever so slightly. All of them could, theoretically, sing. Earth's magic didn't usually lend itself to weaving power into song, so few of them knew how to do it. Laurel did and the memory of how she knew echoed in the depths of her mind. The one thing she ever truly regretted.

"Did you… did you really see…?" She asked hesitantly.

Galadriel smiled, "All wait in Valinor. Even him."

"And Brianna? Did she actually…?" Laurel didn't know how to finish the question.

Did they dare hope it was her apprentice, of all people? Galadriel merely nodded. All suspicions were confirmed. Laurel sat back in her chair and drummed her fingers against the table. There was much she had to think about and a great deal she needed to prepare for.

"There are many instances that nothing will come of it. In those I see only one fate," Galadriel said.

"It ends with her dead or with Aries," Laurel guessed.

"Worse, I fear. I have seen _him_ with her, fully embodied, and she a slave to him. All this if one small thing doesn't happen," the Lady emphasized.

"Of bloody course," Laurel muttered, mood sour.

She should have known. Anything involving her young apprentice would always be irritatingly complicated.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 **Wreathed in Gold**

 **Author's Note:** _O.O... I didn't think I'd update this month... I'm writing in Camp Nanowrimo right now and instead of dedicating my day off to writing my actual story (Elf-Beast) I apparently decided to write 3000+ words to finish this chapter. Wine was involved, so the end of the chapter might be a bit wonky, but eh! It's fanfiction. I'm sure everyone will at least find it entertaining, so enjoy! :P_

* * *

The atmosphere settled into a semi-warm climate the further south they walked. Though a northern wind beat at their backs a bright sun bore down on them as they skirted the banks of Anduin. Glorfindel's information left them certain of how close the small company were to their final destination and Brianna couldn't wait to finally stop walking. Ever since they crossed the Gladden River into the Drimril Dale all that seemed to stretch before them were endless fields of amber grass. Small plains creatures, muck like those that lived on Earth, bounded about living their happy lives.

Brianna didn't like those fields as she felt too much exposed for her liking. There wasn't a place for them to hide, nowhere they could turn should the enemy discover them, just an endless sea of grass and river. It made her antsy despite knowing their enemies were far away and likely wouldn't catch up to them by the time they made it to Lorien. Despite this, something made her feel very uneasy and she couldn't divine as to why. There was something wrong, somewhere, and the mysterious beings that dwelled around the land did not like it. At first, she thought it was just her, but when she asked Glorfindel if something seemed off to him, he revealed that there was something foul in the air.

"I wonder if this was a point of entry," Brianna said.

"It could be. Is there any way for you to know?" Glorfindel asked.

She shook her head and skirted around a heavily clustered tuft of tall grass, "No, not without a few hours at a desk equipped with a pencil and paper. I'd have to draw a rather large map of Earth and a map of Arda and find similar land masses between our worlds."

Brianna took a deep breath and nearly gagged at the putrid stench she was met with. Something was wrong with the air and the wind and the very ground she stood on. It was reminiscent of the day, three months earlier, when she was unceremoniously shoved into Arda. She hadn't thought much of the stench at the time - there were more pressing matters occupying her mind at that moment - so it hadn't occurred to her that there was anything to take note of.

"We need to stop, for a moment, so I can inspect this," she said.

Brianna was met with four pairs of confused eyes blinking at her from the faces of incredibly beautiful people. It struck her, in that moment, how similar their beauty was to each other. Arwen, though tall, was more of an exception than Glorfindel and her brothers. Brianna blinked the thought away feeling both amused by the observation and alarmed by the feel of the world around her. They complied without too much complaint and left Brianna to her own devices.

The first thing she did was pull her rune notes from her pack and leafed through them. Brianna hadn't memorized the entire rune book. She was only one hundred and sixty-nine years old and hadn't been entirely diligent about her runic studies ever since she left OLYMPUS as a full time huntress. While Professor Moruni had continued her education regarding runes and magic Brianna's knowledge rested more in the archeological field, concealment, and movement. Runes, she concluded, would have to be an anchor for her instead of the main mode of inspection.

She breathed and began to etch runes of inspection into the ground. They acted as a guiding point for her to discern where every part of the distortion area was and gave her a rough idea of what she was dealing with. The fell magic settled in a perfect circle and snapped and crackled in protest at the presence of the pure goodness of logic and order.

Once what effectively amounted to a math equation settled into a steady hum Brianna closed her eyes, lifted her hands - palms facing outward - and breathed. The Enith Gilthaes - the foundations of the very universe around them and the element to begin all elements - answered her call. As was usually the case with gently stepping into the power Brianna's entire nervous system erupted into a burst of euphoria. A pleased gasp escaped her lips and she fought to wrest her being back into a state of neutrality. She succeeded, but the act left her feeling weak in the knees and nearly sapped of strength.

The world looked different when she wielded that particular element. It never failed to catch her off guard; especially when an anomaly was found. In this case, what Brianna beheld chilled her to the bone. Darkness morphed and churned like a thick tar-like fire. Steeling herself, she willingly plunged into the darkness and began to search for the evil that had made it.

The darkness churned angrily about her. It's eerie hum rang in her ears and made her teeth unpleasantly tingle. The Enith Gilthaes protected her, shielded her from the seeking tendrils that threatened to consume her. Brianna searched the darkness, uncovered its roots, and traced it back, through space and time, until she glimpsed a vision of how it came to be.

The Morrighan, three women (maiden, mother, and crone), chanting sorceresses, a blade-bladed dagger, and blood. Then she was whipped back to Arda but, instead of finding her companions, she discovered a circle of black-clad riders. At least, black was what they wore. Their faces peeked out from under their cowls with an eerie glow. Fell words echoed in the land around her sung with a song that struck chords that rattled her bones so violently she feared they would part from her skin. With great effort, she tore herself from the darkness and stumbled out of the circle.

As she released herself from the Enith Gilthaes the world returned to normalcy. The stink in the air returned to choke her. A cough violently erupted from her chest. Two pairs of hands steadied her. Voices spoke to her, but she couldn't quite hear them. She blinked and her vision cleared. Once sight returned every other bit of awareness followed after.

"Brianna."

It was Arwen speaking urgently to her. It took another moment to realize that she'd fallen backwards to the ground. As nothing in particular hurt too much Brianna figured the elleth must have caught her at some point.

"What did you see?"

Glorfindel was on her other side across from Arwen. Cold, clammy, and too shaken to reply, all Brianna could bring herself to do was shake her head and pull her legs to her chest. Her companions got the message and retreated from her presence with varying looks of concern. Brianna didn't acknowledge them. The enormity of what she witnessed in the residual sorcery loomed at the head. All things she previously felt she needed to worry about were pushed from her mind. The truth of the situation dawned and it threatened to make all previous efforts against the enemy obsolete.

Sauron had made the rifts. The rifts originated from Arda. It would take magic of Arda to fix it.

* * *

Artemis was first, and foremost, a huntress. For over three thousand years she had made a point to hone her craft and match her skill with the elves and men around her. She meant to become the best of the best, the one others called when a particularly dark entity needed to be dealt with. In the end, she became the leader of the largest force of maniac misfits she'd managed to scrounge up. Orphans, half elves, dwarves keen on doing something other than forging weapons, and humans who'd worked out the existence of the other world and took it upon themselves to find a way to help in the battle against Heylel ben Shachar.

It was heartening for her to see a segment of the elven population in Lorien willing to not only scout the perimeter of the forest realm's borders, but also to stretch their legs beyond where they could observe the world around them and deal with the evil that was at hand. Artemis had embarked on many errands with Galadriel's Wardens and exacted appropriate justice where said justice was due. It was mostly on goblins from Arda, but she'd routed out several creatures her enemies had attempted to slip past the Lady's wards. Such exercises were violent and had surprised her companions with the level of cold hearted exactness she employed while killing her enemies, but Artemis hadn't gone on those excursions to play the nice, meek female elleth. She needed to hunt something, do something, and rid the world of one sort of evil just to release the sense of stagnation two weeks in Lorien had developed.

That day, they went a few leagues beyond the border of Lorien into the Drimril Dale for a weekly bought into the immediate northern lands beyond the little realm. Reconnaissance was a bit boring for Artemis' tastes, but it at least gave her something to do. Haldir, the March Warden she was always paired with, had enough presence of mind to use her to cover the high ground and scout several leagues ahead beside him and two other elves. She never got their names. They never attempted to speak with her on account of not knowing how to speak the common language. This suited Artemis just fine as it enabled her to go about her business with very little interference from anyone other than Haldir and the March Warden seemed content to let her familiarize herself with the territory and search for signs of some dark creature or another.

On their second day into the Dale, Artemis had been perched on the crest of a hill slightly higher than the others that overlooked a gradual descent into the Anduin. Her eyes had been carefully cast forward inspecting the wind for an ounce of the taint she'd felt when their scouting parties took themselves closer to the mountains and the entrance to an old dwarven mining city below when they settled on a company of five figures in the distance. Every muscle in her body tensed at the possibility of meeting an enemy out in the open in broad daylight. She reached for the medallion she kept at her neck to activate her bow and arrows when her vision focused on one figure in particular. Breath rushed past her lips.

"Is all well, Lady Huntress?" Haldir asked.

Artemis wasted little time and turned to snap a reply, "Tell the other two to return to Lorien and inform the Professor, Lord and Lady that my niece has arrived. You and I will hail and meet them shortly."

To his credit, Haldir didn't question her orders and simply turned to his two companions to relay the message and send them on their way. Once their backs were turned and far enough away, the Warden scaled the hill and viewed the approaching group. Artemis didn't watch him. She didn't need to. It was clear that he was validating Brianna's companions as well as her niece. He hummed.

"You told me that your niece was short compared to other elves. You did not lie," he remarked.

Artemis answered with a very unladylike snort and muttered, "If you don't want your ass lit on fire I suggest you don't tell her that."

He didn't smile. She rolled her eyes and watched the group approach for another thirty minutes. When Brianna seemed to be in hearing distance, Artemis cupped her hands in front of her mouth and allowed the wind to gather in her palm. Then she breathed a short message telling her niece where to look before releasing the wind to blow straight across the dale and hit Brianna gently on the face. When the younger elf started, shook her head, and then looked across the dale directly at them Artemis considered her attempt a clear and present success. The moment Brianna broke into a blurred sprint for them, she ran to meet her.

* * *

There were many things Brianna hadn't expected upon coming into sight of Lorien. The tall, form of her pale skinned and dark haired aunt hadn't been one of them. When they finally met somewhere between where Artemis had been roosting and Brianna had been walking they embraced tightly nearly shrieking with glee. For Brianna, it was as if her heart was about to burst from her chest.

"I can't believe you managed it," she said once she calmed down and looked around for her companions and realized they stayed behind at their same pace, "I thought we couldn't travel between worlds? I thought the knowledge was lost."

Artemis shook her head not bothering to hide the slight smile that graced her eyes and lips, "It was apparently kept under tight reign. Loki instructed Matt in where to pick up in case something on his end went wrong. I don't know where they are, but I can promise that you have an entourage ready to help stop Hades."

Brianna's face fell, "So, The Morrighan's plan all along was him?"

"Hades, Aries, and Persephone, and I think they needed something from here to break the seal. We're just not sure when they first crossed over."

Brianna's expression turned grave as she thought back to the obstruction she discovered a day before. What her aunt supposed and what she saw from that vision didn't quite line up. They were missing something vital and Brianna couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

She leaned towards her aunt and whispered, "I found an obstruction a day away in the dale. The land has… memory of what happened."

Artemis tilted her head to one side, frowning thoughtfully, "Lady Galadriel had said her Wardens discovered signs of our enemy's presence a few months ago."

Unconsciously, Brianna cast her gaze to the sky in case they were graced with another dark watcher. So far only the clear blue deep of the atmosphere sparkled down on them with the late afternoon sun. Artemis followed her gaze and then raised an eyebrow.

"Bri, trust me, they haven't flown anything up there in a good while. I made sure of it," she said and smirked, clearly satisfied with her handiwork.

"Erebus is here," Brianna informed her as she cast her gaze back out to her approaching companions.

Their pace had quickened, likely because Glorfindel saw the wisdom of hurrying the lot of them out of the Dale. Brianna and her aunt waited for them and passed the short time speaking of Earth, the things that passed, and the passage of time between Arda and Earth.

"I've only been missing for two weeks?" Brianna asked once Artemis had given her the approximate passage of time since her disappearance.

"Yep! How long has it been for you?" Artemis asked.

"Two and a half months!"

Silence descended between them for a good long while as the gravity of what Brianna said weighed upon them.

"By the Triune's names! The professor said this might happen," Artemis muttered.

Brianna looked down the length of the dale and watched her small group run swiftly up the hill. They were close enough, now, to see their bright eyes look upon Artemis in wonder. Confused by their reaction Brianna took in the entirety of her aunt's appearance and understood their awe.

Lady Huntress Artemis ven Turthin certainly was a sight to behold. Her brown hair was tied back in a simple blade and recently cut to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were grey - the color of the Late Elven King Zeus' eyes - and added to her other-worldly appearance. Every inch of her body was adorned with the highest ranking hunter's garb issued to all OLYMPUS hunters once they reached a certain status in the organization. It was complete with silver armor laced within the cloth - dwarven wrought and elven weaved - and made her glow when the sun peeked out from behind a lazy cloud. She wore no weapons, just a pendant on her left shoulder and two charm bracelets that looped over her middle fingers on her right and left hands. The color of her clothes was white and brown which made the vision all the more blinding.

Brianna squinted at one thing she saw looped on her aunt's semi-thick chain.

"Is that a cell phone?" She asked, stunned.

Artemis blinked, looked down at her side, and grinned sheepishly, "It's modified. It's one of Matt's projects."

Brianna blinked and felt the full weight of her neglect towards her friends from Earth descend on her heart. The cell phone, able to work in a place where there were no cellular towers or satellites, was clearly something he'd been working on for several months. She'd been so disengaged from the hunters that she willingly sacrificed her remaining family, her friendships, and everything else she used to value just because she couldn't handle being their queen.

"I should have known," she whispered.

Artemis' expression didn't turn hard or angry, but there was a glint in her eyes that told Brianna that this conversation would be resumed later when all were inside the borders of Lorien and away from any danger posed by their enemies. In that moment, Glorfindel and Arwen crested the hill followed closely by Elrohir and Ellandan. All eyed Artemis with varying degrees of mistrust and awe. Laughing, Brianna turned to them and placed a hand on her aunt's shoulder.

"May I present my aunt, the lady Huntress Artemis ven Turthen," she introduced, "Aunt, this is Glorfindel, his fiancé, Arwen, and her brothers Elrohir and Elladan. All three of them are the sons of Lord Elrond the Half-Elven and the grandchildren of Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien."

Artemis raised an eyebrow and inclined her head to them ever so slightly, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've heard much of you from Lady Galadriel."

Arwen smiled and bowed deeply before her, "While I can't speak for my fiancé or my brothers, I can say from the bottom of my heart that it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the aunt Brianna speaks so highly of."

Brianna flushed a deep red when her aunt fixed an incredibly satisfied smirk in her direction and said, "Oh? She speaks highly of me? How sweet!"

 _Shit, I'll never hear the end of this,_ Brianna thought.

* * *

Upon entering the Golden Wood Brianna found herself presented with a world of undeniable beauty and grace. Great trees of silver bark and golden leaves loomed above her infused with a magic she couldn't quite identify. As it was likely the beginning of December she felt the never-death in the land's flora that simultaneously rang both natural and wrong to her senses. Beside her, Arwen tilted her head back and breathed a sigh of contentment as she set foot in the small realm around her.

"These trees. What are they?" Brianna asked.

"They are mallorn trees gifted to my grandmother by her sire, Gil-Galad and planted by her long before the War of the Ring," Arwen explained.

Brianna nodded, "Gil-Galad as in the Gil-Galad who fought alongside your father with Isildur against Sau… er… the Dark Lord?"

"The very same," Arwen clarified.

Artemis whistled, "Your people certainly have a long standing history. Your grandmother and the Professor have been trying to explain it to me, but I confess that I can't quite keep it in my head. Now, show me a map and I'll have the thing memorized by sun-set."

"Not one for the scholarly pursuits, Lady Huntress?" Glorfindel asked.

Her aunt sniffed and replied primly, "Indeed not! I left that to Athena and my brother. I had a planet to protect from the evils my father allowed to fester under his watch."

Brianna smiled, but remained silent. Athena, her great-great grandmother, had been both warrior and scholar. When the day called for leadership in war it was Athena who managed to muster an army and successfully fight and win against Aries' and Hades' armies of berserkers and dead. As far as power, guts, and the ability to bring herself to do the necessary things to effectively eradicate the evil that infected her family Athena hadn't been able to do it. Killing her uncle and half-brother, as necessary as she had known it to be, was impossible for her. It resulted in Hades, Aries and Persephone being locked into the seventh gate of hell as punishment for their crimes. Artemis and Apollo had long held the opinion that locking the three of them in hell wasn't actually a punishment, but an opportunity for them to learn secrets of a darker nature that would, in turn, set them on a course to destroy the light. After the current events slowly unfolding before her, Brianna was inclined to agree with her aunt and uncle.

"Has my cousin been informed of my whereabouts?" Brianna asked.

"Yes, though he and the Counsel of the Eldar have elected to keep it from the nobles for the time being. We don't need them to have anymore reason to despair of you than they already do," Artemis said.

Brianna grimaced, but didn't respond. There wasn't much point in trying to argue her case. Just because she didn't think herself capable of ruling her people didn't mean that the Triune agreed with her. As the mark of the elven ruler and the power that came with it remained, so did her eventual fate of having to pick up and rule them later remained. As her cousin remained her steward, so he would rule in all but name.

"The nobles?" Arwen asked. "I didn't realize there actually was nobility among our people."

"There are, on Earth, twelve noble families that can trace their lineage back to the Great Conflict many billions of years ago. It doesn't seem like a small thing to consider, but reading our knowledge, our histories…, "Artemis shook her head, "Only two of us who came to Arda remember the day when we were given a choice to leave heaven and return to the physical realm. They remember the days before the humans and the days long after they arrived. Did you know there was a time when elves could still move across the many habitable planets and galaxies? I hadn't until now when my little niece decided to get pushed into Arda. Suddenly the old sciences and mysteries are being revealed and…" she trailed off, clearly not wishing to finish that thought.

"And the world is suddenly greater than you ever imagined," Glorfindel offered kindly.

Artemis nodded and fixed Brianna with a hard stare. She returned that expression with equal hardness. For as long as Brianna could remember her aunt always stressed the fact that she'd seen the terrors of the world and that she alone could perceive the complete destruction of the darkness that could engulf the world and leave desolation in its wake. This time Brianna wasn't going to give her aunt the luxury of being the only one who "knew". She'd seen the visions Enith Gilthaes provided of the past. She knew what it would take to bind the world anew and repair the walls that separated Earth from Arda. She wouldn't share how terrified the prospect left her.

"Too right, elf lord," Artemis finally replied, not averting her gaze from Brianna's determination. "I only hope we can keep on protecting it."

With that Artemis broke eye contact and moved to the front of the group where Haldir led them. Brianna watched Arwen and Glorfindel whisper to themselves of what she figured were memories of their time shared in Lorien. Every once in a while one of them pointed in a direction towards something Brianna couldn't quite make out and smiled a memory or two. Once again, the distracting ache thrummed through her as she thought of Aragorn and the ring he gifted her hanging on its chord around her neck. Subconsciously, she lifted her hand and pulled the ring out from beneath the folds of her vest where she hid it and caressed it with her thumb.

 _I… miss him. Everything Glorfindel and Arwen do remind me of him and it hurts. It shouldn't hurt, nothing could come of he and I, but still it does,_ she thought.

They walked through the night, sometimes in complete silence with the sounds of the forest creatures echoing around them, and sometimes with a gentle susurration of whispers from Artemis, Glorfindel and Arwen. There were moments Elrohir and Elladan joined in their gentle cheerful banter, but she and the March Warden, Haldir, didn't join them. Haldir seemed to be the sort who didn't speak much about anything, but Brianna discovered that she didn't want to speak to anyone. Once the high of seeing her aunt died away other thoughts crept into her mind and left her pensive and unsure of the situation she found herself in.

When they entered Caras Galadhorn, Brianna was met with a sight she would never forget in all the long years after. The mallorn trees stretched high above them with wide silver trunks and branches that stretched out above them forming a thick canopy of silver and gold. Torches of fire hung from golden chains attached to the trees and illuminated the forest floor and the many levels of bridges and what looked to be houses inside the trees above them.

"Jesus' Holy Name," she breathed. "This is… beautiful."

It was a lame description of the world around her. Thick clouds of happy fireflies drifted around them. Blue and yellow flowers grew among thick ferns and creeping vines on the forest floor. It took everything Brianna had not to dash about the place and inspect every ounce of plant and architecture grown and built around the great trees.

"Welcome to Lothlorien, home of my heart," Arwen whispered to her from Brianna's right.

Brianna, for her part, could only nod. She was too stunned by what was before her to speak. A cloud of fireflies drifted in front of her. Like a child would Brianna reached out her hand and thrust it in the midst of their light. The bugs illuminated her pale skin and cast a cold orange glow around her arm. She smiled and laughed her heart thudded in her chest and an urge to dash amongst them and sing and dance nearly overcame her. Brianna checked herself despite the urge and remained where she was watched by the elves around her.

"This place is absolutely beautiful, Arwen. Your grandmother maintains a fine city," Brianna said, voice light and breathy.

The older elf maiden smiled broadly at the compliment, reached down and grabbed Brianna's hand, and began to lead her towards one of the larger mallorn trees. Brianna allowed Arwen to tug her along. If she didn't she knew she'd stop at every interesting thing she passed at every opportunity she found. At one point, she caught the amused smirk in Artemis' eyes and childishly stuck her tongue out at her. Her aunt raised her eyes to the tree canopy and muttered something unintelligible under her breath that sparked a sharp guffaw of laughter from Glorfindel and a few smiles from Elladan, Elrohir, and Haldir. Before she could figure out exactly what was said Arwen snatched her away and practically dragged her across the forest floor towards the large tree Brianna observed earlier.

"That," Arwen said, motioning towards the tall tree, "is the house of my grandparents, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, my mother's kin. It is here they will receive us and here we will stay. My grandparents have a great library at their disposal free for anyone's use and one I suspect you will be employing much during your stay here."

Brianna voiced an affirmative while her eyes darted to and fro trying to take in all of the sights to be seen despite knowing she could look once she was settled. The tree approached, great and beautiful in it's growth and surrounding stone and wooden architecture, and Arwen stopped at a wooden staircase that peeked out from the great trunk. Arwen gave Brianna a few instructions about watching where she stepped and other incredibly useful things that she nodded her head to and then carefully led the ascent into the tree beyond.

There were only a few terrains Brianna wasn't comfortable with. Deserts with their shifting sands that forced her to constantly concentrate on to keep from letting the fine grains of dirt slip out from under her were one climate she absolutely hated. While the heat never particularly bothered her like it did her instructor, Maf, both shared a similar distaste for desert climates. Swamps, marshes, or anything similar was another terrain Brianna felt uncomfortable navigating for similar reasons of it being difficult to keep track of the ground. The added irritant of the local bug population only made navigating the bloody thing even worse.

Ascending what were clearly stairs grown from the silver bark of the mallorn tree? Brianna certainly could do. She scaled the thing so well that Arwen had to remind her that she didn't know where she was going and needed to follow her, though the elder elf was far more amused by Brianna's enthusiasm than irritated. They reached the level of the tree where Arwen intended them to go quickly - far quicker than Brianna first thought they would - and practically pulled Brianna through an opening into the tree and down a wooden corridor.

 _This is all grown to look like this,_ she thought, awed, _I can barely do this right now, yet Lady Galadriel not only managed to make the tree grow into a house, but sustain the way the tree grew as a house as well._

Humbled, Brianna let Arwen pull her along the passageway and through an archway shrouded in white silk curtains. Sitting in a few simply constructed wooden chairs were two elves Brianna didn't recognize and a tall, red headed elf dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and brown leather boots. She stopped before Arwen did, mouth open just a bit. Of course, she'd known the professor was in Lorien. Artemis had said as much, but to actually see her mentor sitting casually in a chair before her made everything come together for her.

She was in Arda, but she was no longer alone.

Brianna blinked away tears of joy threatening to spill out of her tear ducts and took a deep breath before saying, "Took you long enough, Professor."

Professor Laurel Moruni's eyes shown just a bit as she replied, "Well, you certainly didn't make it easy now did you?"

The other elf woman merely smiled and said, "Welcome to Caras Galadhorn, Queen Aracasse ven Aldura. It is an honor to finally meet you."

Brianna grinned, "If I here you say 'You're Majesty' I'll convince one of your trees to tie your up for an hour. Lady Galadriel, I presume?"

The lady stood and towered over her, eyes bright with the clear and present joke running between them, "I hear from Laurelie and your aunt that you prefer Brianna, so I will call you that if you only call me Galadriel, my lady."

Brianna pulled a face at the "my lady" and replied, "Done and done!"


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

 **Song of the Future**

 ** _Author's_** _Note: I am reeeaaally sorry for taking three months to update this story! BUT! I have a good excuse! I got engaged and am getting married in the next month and a half, so on top of work my world has been taken up by wedding planning. I'm planning on getting back on schedule now, so there shouldn't be another drastic delay like this one in the near future. Now, enjoy!_

* * *

 _December 20th - the Fellowship's last month in Imladris -_

Aragorn watched the final leaves of autumn begin their turn. A cold wind blew from the north and left frost on the morning ground. That frost melted by mid afternoon, heralding the coming of early winter snows. At his side hung the heavy burden of his ancestor's sword.

 _My sword,_ he thought. _Anduril, the Flame of the West._

If only he'd felt more like the flame he supposedly carried. Every time he drew the sword from it's sheath the blade sparked into flame which reminded him of a similar trick a certain elf maid managed on the trek to Imladris. Biting back the urge to groan Aragorn closed his eyes and tilted back his head so the breeze would catch his hair. For the past month small things, phrases, or even a fond mention from one of the hobbits reminded him of her.

The memory left him feeling more melancholy than empowered.

In the distance, clouds gathered from the northwest and threatened to coat the land in its first snow of the season. He frowned. Winter was not an ideal time to begin such a journey, but he supposed there was little choice in the matter. They'd needed the two months given to them to decide on the best road, to scout every possible exit out of Imladris and into the wilds. Gandalf had finally decided on the Gap of Rohan as their best way over the mountains. Aragorn wasn't so sure as it took them far too close to Isengard for his liking, but there was nothing for it. He certainly hadn't thought of anything better. By all accounts, all roads were dangerous. Strange beings with dark magic gathered to the east and destroyed everything in their path. Aragorn's Dunadain heard whispers and rumors of kidnappings from villages and small cities to the north and south. Where once the enemy showed no sign of movement on their side of the Misty Mountains with signs of malevolence rampant.

"You are quite pensive this morning."

Aragorn almost grimaced. Boromir, the son of Gondor's steward and the one who inevitably sealed his fate, joined him on the balcony to watch the calm landscape before them. The man had been particularly hoping for Aragorn's aid to Gondor's stand against Mordor.

"There is much to consider," Aragorn replied.

Boromir stood next to him and leaned against the stone railing. The man seemed pale, tired, and bound in a perpetual state of worry for a people who needed salvation from their perpetual battle against the forces of Mordor. For this reason, Aragorn felt compelled to go to them once and then again, now, as a symbol of hope to a people his forefathers had long abandoned to the authority of the steward line. How he proposed to be this symbol of hope Aragorn couldn't fathom.

"What is there to consider?" Boromir asked, "Gandalf shall guide Frodo, and whoever chooses to follow, into Mordor and I shall bring you, and whoever chooses to follow you, to Gondor to renew my people's hope and spirit. That is our course."

Aragorn patiently breathed away his irritation. The young lord made it seem so simple, effortless, and was sure that his presence alone could boost the moral of a people certainly devoid of it! It didn't stop his resolve in trying. Even his heart called for him to return to the land of his forefathers and smite the evil that had invaded it once and for all. If only he had such power.

"Do not place all your hope in me, Boromir, for all hope lies in the success of this quest. Frodo must reach Mount Doom and throw _it_ into the fires from which it was forged. I _might_ give hope to the people, but that hope is finite and will not last the entirety of the war," Aragorn said in a tone he forcibly kept measured.

It wouldn't do to show the bone crushing fear plaguing his heart that whispered treacherously of the sure doom of their quest. To his immense irritation a knowing look entered Boromir's expression. His hand rested on Aragorn's shoulder and pulled him around so they met almost eye-to-eye. Boromir, he realized, was just an inch or two shorter than he. The man's chin tilted up to better meet Aragorn's eye. Blue eyes, hard, gaunt, and very much determined blazed at him imploringly.

"I do not know why you insist on dissuading yourself from what is the clear intention of the Valor, themselves! We need something! Anything! To help us carry on!" The man insisted.

Aragorn frowned, "I will do what I can, Boromir, but I won't promise the fortunes of your people will turn because of my presence. If Brianna and Frodo fail, we are doomed, that much is certain."

He ignored the pang in his heart at the mention of her name, but was relieved to see the man release his shoulder and step away from him. Boromir's jaw was set and hands clenched at his side.

"This I understand, my friend," Boromir responded coldly, "but if you have no faith in this venture then perhaps we are all doomed."

With that, Boromir turned and left, leaving Aragorn to simmer in his thoughts.

* * *

 _December 21st - a day after Brianna arrives in Caras Galadhorn -_

Brianna looked out of a simplistic archway that extended into a modest balcony and pondered the architectural differences between Rivendell and Caras Galadhorn. Rivendell had been a picture of bright autumn flowers, transforming fall trees, delightful waterfalls and delicately carved marble halls. Caras Galadhorn was an elven city in the trees. There were some instances of expertly crafted stonework, but most of the city's glory came from the way the Malorn trees were grown to be healthy plants as well as houses for the elves. The flora on the ground below the incredibly tall trees were formed into grassy paths with otherworldly flowers and leaves that released seeds and pollen that glowed like stars in the night's sky.

Her rooms weren't sparse. Galadriel's small private reception room had been sparse and the halls beyond were just as barren, so Brianna initially believed her host kept most of her rooms to a minimalistic style. This opinion had changed when one of Galadriel's ladies led her into what would be Brianna's living quarters for as long as she remained in Lorien. Upon entering, Brianna's breath caught in her throat. The sight was every archeologist's dream if one was going to research any society's art, architecture, and values. Every table, chair, and bed was grown from the tree she would sleep in. Each room had a circular wall facing the sides of the tree with expertly molded windows that seemed to have grown around crystalized glass. Thin sheets of sheer silk fell across the entrance to her balcony in pure white waves. The covers of her bed were made from a heavier material than the sheer silk of her balcony's door and proved to be as soft as wool.

The clothes were another matter entirely. They were light and airy where the dresses in Rivendell were thick and crisp. Rivendell's dresses fell heavily around her feet and the sleeves had fanned from her mid forearm to the floor. The dress of an elleth in Lorien was still floor length, but it floated to the tops of her toes and swung comfortably along with her hips. The dress only had one layer, no sleeves, and no shoes. Brianna had never walked the earth with her feet exposed to the elements before, so the experience excited and delighted her. Lorien responded to her presence as if it were welcoming an old friend though the earth around her was just as foreign as it was everywhere else she'd been in Arda. Lady Galadriel's added power was only another curiosity she'd yet to fully decipher.

Power brought life to Lorien's woods. That power was ancient, steady, and comforting. It protected and enveloped. As she stood on her large balcony looking out to the world below, Brianna felt that power seep into the very air she breathed. Every breath she took revitalized her works weary state and she felt the cares and worries of the past couple of months ease. It allowed her time to repair the box that housed all the things she was better off forgetting.

"Excuse me, my lady?" Drifted a voice from within her expansive rooms.

"I'm on the balcony," Brianna said steadily.

Light footsteps she hadn't heard enter her rooms earlier, padded softly across the wooded floor of the tree and stepped onto the balcony. Brianna turned to look at her. Ellethil was one of Lady Galadriel's oldest, personal, attendants. According to Galadriel, the elf received many years of instruction from the White Lady, herself, and had a moderate mastering of the art of magic and song along with the benefit of the Lady's ear and confidence. The elf was slated to begin Brianna's education on learning to harness her supposed ability to use magic by way of singing.

"If you will, Lady Brianna, we may begin our first lesson in song," Ellethil said serenely.

Brianna forced a smile despite feeling that the attempt would prove fruitless in the end, but figured that attempting to learn wasn't going to kill her, "I suppose we should begin."

The elf lady smiled and held back the sheer curtain and stepped to one side so Brianna could pass her and enter the living chamber within. Two chairs had been placed opposite of each other at a small, square, table. Ellethil strode confidently to one chair and sat. Frowning, Brianna followed suit and gingerly settled herself opposite of her elder.

Ellethil was tall, like most elves in Arda, with long blond locks that draped her shoulders, elbows, and hands like ornate chords. Her eyes, twin pools of pale green, inspected her warmly from across the small table. The presence of the Elf Lady made Brianna feel young - like a small child in the presence of her nanny - and, thus, uncomfortable. As if sensing this, Ellethil smiled kindly and reached out a thin, elegant, hand to place it on Brianna's folded fingers.

"This is not a test, nor are you expected to understand the complexity of this magic now. What we will be going over today is the history of Arda from it's earliest conception to our present struggle today," she assured her.

Brianna inclined her head and remained silent. Ellethil, taking this as a sign from the queen to continue, did so. The introduction of the elf's instruction of Ardanian magic was a complex explanation that snaked and weaved it's way around Brianna's mind quickly growing into a giant, hard to follow, maze. Before Ellethil plowed too far into the new concepts, Brianna stopped her and requested paper, pen and ink for the purpose of note taking. Once such study aids were acquired, Brianna began to make some sense of the explanation.

The theory was condensed thusly: Arda held three types of power; elemental, song, and sorcery. The elements were a realization of how their planet was formed by the power of Eru and the Ainur. After some prodding, Brianna managed to get the elf lady to actually _talk_ about Eru and made some notes that posed the question of whether Eru and the Triune were one in the same. Human cultures, at their soul and center, always had some sense of the Triune's presence in the world. It wasn't much of a stretch to hypothesize that Elves would do the same if enough time passed. When that tangent came to a close by the wise guidance of the older elf, the subject settled back on track just in time to talk about the myth of how the world formed. Eru was said to have brought the Ainur together and showed them a theme, from which he bade them make a great music. Melkor – whom Eru had given the "greatest power and knowledge" of all the Ainur – broke from the harmony of the music to develop his own song. Some Ainur joined him, while others continued to follow Eru, causing discord in the music. This happened thrice, with Eru successfully overpowering his rebellious subordinate with a new theme each time. Ilúvatar then stopped the music and showed them a vision of Arda and its peoples. From this power came Ardanian magic. The Ainur, of course, could bend the elements to their will as the elements and they were tuned to the other by song. The elves could form the world around them _by_ song, but not with the grace and ease of the Ainur and the Maiar.

After this initial description, Ellethil went over a few basic techniques that Brianna could try to become more aware of her emotions and how to separate the good from the bad. To sing with power was to sing with feeling and abandon. If good intention is meant then only good could come of the song. Likewise, evil intent begot evil intent. Once she placed Brianna in an alternating triad hum, Ellethil took her leave to attend to her other duties and give her charge some time to practice.

For her part, Brianna's thoughts lingered on the plight of her people on Arda. If there was anything she knew about her people it was this: elves had the ability to bend and control the elements. If so, why not the elves of Arda? With this in mind Brianna began to sift through her emotions and studiously avoided a select few she didn't want to face.

* * *

 _December 21st - Night_

While Brianna practiced the first stages of Ardanian magic, Aragorn slept fitfully. Contrary to the usual literary stereotypes of nightmares, heartsick feelings and a general sense of unease, Aragorn's mind was merely caught up in the throws of planning the Fellowship's long epic journey to the fires of Mt. Doom. Each quiet moment he had was consequently during the hours reserved for sleeping and it set him in a mode of second guessing choices of provision, winter wear, blankets, the ratio between packs the company carried and packs their little pony, Bill, carried, and a whole manner of possible things he and Gandalf may have overlooked.

After hours of laying in his bed attempting to quiet his mind he finally gave up hope of rest and slid out of his bed to walk the dimly lit halls of Imladris. There were no lamps lining the halls to illuminate him, so Aragorn had the advantage of passing through the halls and rooms unseen by anyone who saw with mortal eyes. Those elves he passed didn't acknowledge him. In all his years of growing up and living in and out of Imladris they knew his nervous habits and weren't unfamiliar with his presence in the night's gentle cloak. Very few elves were out in the small hours of this particular early morning. It was a blessing to him and one that Aragorn hadn't expected to come to pass.

Grateful for the scarcity of people he'd known throughout his long years living within the walls of Imladris, Aragorn traversed the halls virtually unseen and left completely to his thoughts. The ring, Isildur's Bane, plagued his thoughts as an ever present Doom waiting to smite the whole of Arda into ruin. In this Aragorn was of two minds. Every fiber of his being called for him to go with Gandalf and Frodo to the fires of Mount Doom and observe the deed his ancestor had failed to accomplish years ago. Another, deeper, part of him urged him to answer the cries of a people he had once ventured to fight for under the pseudonym, Thorongil. Boromir's plea had effected him and Aragorn knew, in his bones, that there was little that would stop him from going with the lord to Gondor.

His ancestral home - a place his family had little to do with since the fall of Arnor - caused a far greater conflict within him than Aragorn had imagined. Elrond, in his wisdom and foresight, warned him of the path that call would lead him down. Kingship. The uniter of realms. The return of a monarchy that had barely survived the winds of time that had threatened, on numerous occasions, to blow the last line of his house away. He pulled a face at the thought. Boromir wanted it. Gandalf believed it. Elrond expected it. None of them thought to ask what Aragorn's opinion on the matter was and he was inclined to simply let the line of stewards take of the mantel of kings so that he could live his life in peace.

However, such a hope for peace had been shattered by the appearance of Brianna, whose true name was Aracasse, the queen of the elves. She had operated perpetually under the assumption that she would not only have to return to her world, but return to her people as their queen. Even in Arda the elves recognized her sovereignty over them and treated her as their queen even while Brianna clearly felt uncomfortable with the deferential treatment. Still, her handling of the unwanted reverence was beyond a graciousness Aragorn would have if he was in that situation. It made him both admire and love her beyond what he thought himself capable.

Brianna's status as queen of the elves left a bitter taste in his mouth. For several days he thought it was because he couldn't be with her. Then, one night while on patrol with Legolas, he finally understood the cause. It was her seemingly fated circumstance. If she, elven queen, was stopped by an authority above her from actually abdicating her throne then what hope did Aragorn have of avoiding what Lord Elrond - someone who was both a parent and mentor to him - deemed to be pre-destined.

He reached his favorite place to hide from the world after an hour of aimless wandering. The Hall of Fire was quiet. No one was there in that hour, not even Bilbo Baggins, and it enabled Aragorn to sit on the floor before the crackling flames of the great fire and find peace within its comforting light. The fire was pure, beautiful and warm. To his surprise the cares pressing on his shoulders eased and a state of calm washed over his person. His eyes fluttered and closed and Aragorn entered into a state between sleep and wakefulness.

 _He saw her in an unfamiliar place by the sea clothed in a simple blue dress and a silver crown on her brow. The ocean wind caught her long, bronze, hair and knotted it into a messy twist. Brianna's hands where outstretched to catch the blurred form of an elven child with dark hair and vibrant teal eyes. Her lips curled into a smile as she caught his charging form and swept him into her arms, skillfully maneuvering him around the prominent bulge of her stomach indicating she was with child. Aragorn's mouth dried. The smile on her lips. The peace. The happiness. She was beautiful._

 _A longing such as he'd never felt before filled him as he watched her lips press a gentle kiss on the child's brow. The child smiled a gigantic grin and began squirming out of her grasp. With a grin, Brianna bent down and set his bare feet back onto the white sands. Instead of running back to the water the boy began to run towards him and Aragorn was able to study the boy in his approach. He had dark, curly hair, teal eyes, pointed ears that weren't as prominent as most elven children's, and a grin that reminded him of the mother. But that wasn't what Aragorn noticed the most. Around the boy's neck was his ring._

 _Heart racing, Aragorn looked back to Brianna just as he felt his knees begin to bend and lift the child high into the sky. The silver circlet on her brow was difficult for him to see, but he did notice the ornate well-woven quality of the band as it looped up from the center of her forehead and pulled back into several thin beaded strands that were woven through her hair._

 _His mouth opened, but instead of her name he uttered the name of the boy that was his son._

" _Eldarion."_

The loud crack of one of the burning logs startled him back into the land of the living. Aragorn stared numbly into the fire for a good long minute before reaching up to wipe away the tears that blurred his vision.

* * *

 _December 22nd - Lorien_

Brianna woke from her four hours of slumber feeling odd. She couldn't quite put a finger on what it was that caused the feeling, only that wherever her dreams had taken her was beautiful and she wished she could return. Tentatively, she placed her hand on her stomach making note of the fact that it was flat and not round with late second trimester pregnancy. Confused, she lay in the bed wondering why she would have been dreaming about being pregnant. Then the other parties to that dream came back to her and she closed her eyes and groaned.

 _Right. I dreamed about Aragorn… again,_ she thought and closed her eyes as horror overtook her. _Oh God! I dreamed about being pregnant with his second child!_

It had been such a good dream. Brianna holding his firstborn son in her arms, Aragorn laughing in the distance and then playing with the boy - she refused to acknowledge she'd conjured up a name for the child - in the ocean, and Brianna rubbing the bulge in her stomach as she considered Susanna as a good name for the girl she knew she was about to have. Despair threatening to overtake her, Brianna flung an arm over her eyes and breathed deeply to keep at bay any tears that wanted to emerge. It was bad enough that she was dreaming about being with the man. If she cried about it she'd feel even more pathetic about the dream than she already did.

Learning Ardanian magic was making it difficult for Brianna to keep her emotions in check. The elements didn't require emotions to be used. They were cold hard facts of life - visible facts of life - and bent where she willed them. There were times, of course, when her emotions influenced her use of the elements, but they weren't a requirement. Elven magic in Arda required her to have a mental, spiritual, and what certainly amounted to an emotional connection to the world around her. Lacing her emotions with the elements was a strange concept to her and made it easier for her to control the enith gilthaes than before. This strange new way to use that power had limitations, of course, in the form of singing, but was effective when Brianna was able to immerse herself.

This opened up a flood where she'd hoped to release a trickling stream. She'd found herself feeling a new intensity to her longing for Aragorn that was positively distracting. Sadness and anger were harder to keep in check which resulted in Brianna almost setting people who pissed her off on fire. Haldir, being the haughty prick that he was, tended to be the unwitting target for the duration of her first day learning the craft. Professor Moruni and Artemis were both very much amused at her struggle to which Brianna threw them the occasional rude gesture to make sure they knew they were on her "shit list".

With a groan, Brianna sat up and pulled aside her covers to step out of bed. She'd slept in the nude. It was a strange deviation from her modern life where her wardrobe consisted of old workout shorts or sweats coupled with various ratty tank tops that had seen better days. Her nightly wardrobe had been the same in Rivendell and it caused a number of restless nights where she felt too vulnerable to be fully at ease. In Lorien the feeling continued and had been amplified by the excessive release of her emotions.

She breathed in an effort to regain the control she'd spent years painstakingly working on. It didn't work and she gave up after several attempts and threw on a simple blue dress to meet the Lady Galadriel for a very late breakfast.

* * *

The lady was found along the banks of the Nimrodel with only one serving maid to accompany her. Brianna approached her, surprised to find a distinct absence of her aunt and the professor. When Lady Galadriel looked up from whatever long piece of parchment she held unfurled in both hands, she smiled and inclined her head at the one empty chair across from her. Brianna daintily slipped into the chair and began to take stock of the light fair the maid spread out before them as the lady finished reading about whatever important matter required her attention.

"King Thranduil of what was once the Greenwood has sent me a letter of a matter that greatly concerns me," Galadriel said softly.

Brianna looked away from her inspection of a particularly interesting looking sandwich and met the Lady's eyes, "What happened?"

"The enemy is amassing an army around Dol Goldur. They intend to attack the dwarf king in the Lonely Mountain and the surrounding city. Your enemies have also been reported in the surrounding countryside. A few elves and dwarves have been killed, but those most affected are human. I have written to King Thranduil, under the directive of your aunt, the various ways to kill certain enemies. She plans to join my husband when he leaves with our army to give the elvenking aid," the Lady explained.

Brianna watched her, frowning, and thought about the lady's purpose of mentioning the letter from this elven king. If she recalled correctly, King Thranduil was Legolas' father. From the way Galadriel spoke, it sounded as if Artemis knew the king.

"I was told a while back by King Thranduil's son that my ancestor, Laurealasse, knew King Thruanduil," Brianna said.

The Lady Galadriel nodded, "That is only half of the tale. King Thranduil met another elf queen from your world many years later after he ascended the throne of the Greenwood. This one is just as well known as Laurealasse. They shared a deep bond and married. She bore him two sons - one she took with her back to earth and the other, younger, son to remain in the Greenwood with the elven king."

Brianna considered what she knew of her family history and her mind's eye narrowed in on the more recent members of her line. There was one queen who married, but whose husband never ascended the throne with her. Many had assumed he'd died, but such had never been confirmed and Athena, her great-grandmother, never bothered to correct them.

 _Because, in her eyes, it would have been as if he'd died,_ she thought.

Another thought weaseled it's way passed the jumbled mess which occupied her mind in that moment. She blinked as that small, innocent, thought communicated the obvious conclusion.

"Legolas is my great uncle?" she blurted out, "How? My great-grandmother lived three thousand years ago! Legolas told me that he's only been alive for nine hundred years!"

Lady Galadriel smiled sadly and rolled up the letter she'd been reading, "Time between our worlds is strange. Sometimes three months can pass here and only two weeks there. Sometimes the space of time between our world and your world is drastically different."

Brianna swallowed as the implications began to make themselves known, "The tear in the veil of space and time… it's keeping us in sync with Arda where the difference is less drastic. If it didn't exist and I stayed…"

It was another nail in an already fully nailed coffin. Galadriel reached out and placed a comforting hand on Brianna's own. Brianna allowed it. She needed to feel the sympathy of someone who wasn't fully involved with her life, but who still understood loss. Even so, Galadriel didn't quite understand the full implication of what Brianna faced. It was fine, for the moment, but she knew she'd eventually need more.

"Not everything is as hopeless as it seems. Do not give into despair. Everything that is meant to happen will come to pass whether we will it to or not," said the Lady.

It was almost a comforting thought and Brianna expressed her gratitude for it all the same. Then, she pushed the newest bit of stunning news to the back of her mind. There was no point in dwelling on family she would never meet or see again.

Silence settled between them for a time. Brianna enjoyed the absence of any mind boggling talk about Arda. It was nice to sit in that companionable silence and enjoy the food the Lady's household took the time to prepare. The food was good much to Brianna's surprise. The elves of Lorien put more vegetables, bread, and dairy products in their diet than meat, but they did seem to value the use of fresh water trout in their diet as well. The fish was part of the sandwich and the sides were all various fruits, berries, nuts and greens.

"How was your first lesson in our magic?" Galadriel asked.

Brianna snorted, "Bad. I'm not… good at operating power through the use of emotions and lost my temper several times. I'm also… my mind has taken to wanting to dream about things it shouldn't. I think and want things I can't have. It's normal, I know, to miss… things, but the more I use my emotions for magic the more pronounced my emotions have become. I'm not sure how to continue regulating them while using this magic."

Lady Galadriel didn't reply for a good long while. Brianna waited with a patience that she didn't really have. It was best to assume that offending an elven lady who as old - if not older - as Professor Moruni was an incredibly bad idea.

"Your soul is in turmoil," Galadriel said finally.

 _No shit,_ Brianna thought grumpily. _Let's pick through all the things I have nightmares about on a regular basis and then add this ridiculous angst where Aragorn's concerned and yeah, my soul might just have a smidge of turmoil._

She didn't say that, of course, though part of her really wanted to drive home the fact that the Lady had states the obvious. To better control that impulse, Brianna picked up another trout sandwich (as she dubbed them) and shoved one in her mouth. Lady Galadriel looked at her a moment longer before releasing a soft titter.

"These dreams will grow worse unless you work through those emotions you wish not to acknowledge. The best way to do that is to spend a day or two acknowledging and accepting the emotions and dealing with them accordingly," the Lady said.

Brianna swallowed and worried her bottom lip with two front teeth before replying, "What if acknowledging those emotions… what if some of them… I'm afraid a few of those emotions will hinder rather than help."

She winced at how awkward she sounded. The Lady looked at her, blue eyes like twin mirrors that reflected Brianna's soul, and it occurred to her that Galadriel didn't need to enter her mind to read her thoughts. All the Lady had to do was observe and listen. Brianna's manner, words, and voice gave more away than she wanted.

"You must if you want to stop the enemy. Neither _he_ nor your uncles will leave this world alone until you smash all of their plans and burn it to ash. We begin by taking away the tears that allow them to enter my world. You will end it by hunting them down and physically eradicating the threat. You will have help in this, of course, but you will never be effective in this venture unless you deal with your emotions sooner rather than later," Lady Galadriel said sternly.

A softer light returnee to her eyes and the Lady motioned to the forest around her, "I have found that traversing Lorien helps me begin to deal with the more difficult emotions. Maybe you will find the same?"

Brianna wanted to rage. She wanted to declare the world unfair in how it constantly forced her to think about the things she didn't _want_ to remember ever again let alone _feel_. She wanted to run away. There was no running away. There was no abdicating from being the queen of the elves. There was no banishing the memories of Alyan, Judah, and Allyson as Ba'al tortured then murdered them to attempt to get to her. She would never forget his methods of trying to personally persuade her to join her power and authority with him. She'd never forget how Aragorn's love made her feel as free as an eagle and as weighed down like Atlas. The preparatory work Brianna had done to begin learning Arda's magic opened the damwhich held those memories and emotions at bay. If the Lady was to be believed, then that dam would be completely eroded away.

"I'll take that into consideration," Brianna said diplomatically.

It was the best she could promise.


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

 **He Danced in the Morning**

 **Author's Note:** _I. Am. So. Sorry. For. Taking. Three. Months. To. Update! I have a really good excuse! I was planning my wedding XD! Anyway, now that the wedding's over and it's Christmas break for me (a short little break, but a break all the same), I've found some time to write. Please enjoy this chapter! I will try to update more often after this!_

* * *

 _December 25th - eight o'clock in the morning, Lorien_

Brianna woke feeling even more despondent than she had a few days prior. It was a strange feeling, one that she couldn't fully identify, and it persisted all through the morning as she broke her fast and set about her exorcises. Breathe, look within, consider, ponder, and sing. Yet, her tone rang hollow to her ears even though her mind could feel the magic she attempted to touch. Near midday, after leaving her rooms to wander the forest floor, Brianna temporarily forgot her troubled feeling at the sight of Arwen and three other elf women gathered around a small pool nestled in the foot of two particularly tall mallorn trees. The raven haired maiden spied her before Brianna had a chance to greet them and hastily waived her over to their little group.

With a smile, Brianna approached them and allowed the older elf to pull her into an affectionate embrace upon arrival. When Arwen pulled away she turned and began introducing Brianna only felt slightly awkward about the entire thing. The three other elf women were near identical in their thinness, height, eye color and hair color. For a moment, Brianna thought them to be triplets, but was proven only slightly correct as Arwen explained who they were.

"Brianna, these are my dearest friends and companions, Celeblas, Eregil, and Luthil. My friends, this is the one I spoke of who calls herself Brianna," she said.

The one whom Arwen introduced as Celeblas stood and inclined her head to her. Brianna had to tilt her head only a little bit to look up at the woman. She was much shorter than Arwen, maybe five feet and seven inches to the darker haired elf's six feet. Her hair, like the other two, was a silver blond accompanied by a pair of shining blue eyes.

"My sisters and I are pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Brianna," she said, "it is rare for us to see one such as yourself and we rarely venture far past Lorien's borders; especially in times such as these."

Brianna nodded and replied with a smile, "I'm happy to meet all of you."

With a twinkle in her eye, Arwen led Brianna to an open space of grass and sat down with her. Once they were seated, Celeblas returned to her perch on the thick tree root she'd been sitting on when Brianna came upon them and the one called Eregil - who was sitting on that same root just below the elf woman - leaned forward in Brianna's direction.

"Is it true what Arwen tells us? Are you from another world?" She asked.

Brianna sent Arwen a teasing smirk and asked, "Telling tales about me, friend?"

Arwen closed her eyes and tilted her chin to the air as she replied primly, "I have only spoken of what is true and verifiable by yourself."

Grinning, Brianna returned her attention to an amused Eregil and said, "I supposed the best way to describe it is that I've come from another world. I don't know enough of the technicalities to adequately describe exactly where I come from. Such a question is best posed to a friend of mine whom I am told is here in Arda… somewhere."

Eregil cocked her head to one side and began to fidget with her hands from what Brianna could only figure was excitement. With a glance to Celeblas and Luthil, she noticed the tint of disapproval in their expressions and strongly suspected that out of the three of them Eregil acted less like a lady and more like a free spirit. Even so, painted alongside that disapproval were varying degrees of fondness and love that could only be shared by those who couldn't help their relation to such an excitable creature. A pang of longing echoed through Brianna's own heart as she observed the sisterly bond displayed before her.

 _If only…_ she wondered and then ended that thought the moment it reared it's head.

There was no point in thinking those thoughts, in regretting something that she couldn't even remember existed in the first place, and wishing that she not only remembered her parents and that they'd lived long enough to produce other siblings. She shouldn't think about it. Unfortunately, she did and thought on it more often now then she had in the past. All because she had to learn the magic of Arda to save the world. Again.

"The Lady Laurel tried to give our brother an explanation," Luthil remarked absently, "I do not believe he understood a word she said and I suspect she is very knowledgeable of these… mechanics."

Brianna smiled wryly, "She is. The… Lady Laurel is my teacher and I've learned much from her, but sometimes there are concepts she tries to teach me that I'm not ready for."

There was a certain glint in Arwen's eyes at that confession. The other elf women, of course, missed what Brianna had alluded to, but Arwen - who knew the whole of Brianna's purpose - likely suspected the double meaning behind Brianna's words and knew enough to plan to speak with her alone at a later time.

"Haldir, the March Warden, is their brother, Brianna," Arwen said, providing a bit of information that Brianna didn't know in an effort to turn the subject of their conversation away from their purpose.

Celeblas smiled fondly at the remark, "Ah, yes! I remember our brother speaking of your coming. He was most surprised to see our friend, Arwen, among your company."

"It was a surprise to all of us," Luthil said. "The world has turned dark and is full of terrors from your world, Lady Brianna. Lord Elrond loves his daughter and takes great measures to protect her. While Lord Glorfindel is a great and powerful elf among our kind, we didn't think Lord Elrond would believe his protection sufficient."

Brianna smiled and said, "There are many things I disagree with Lord Elrond about. One of them is the act of keeping one away from the person they love with the pretense of protecting them. Having lost two I have loved at different times, I can attest to the fact that it is better to be with them than away from them."

She felt the sadness keenly, but kept it from ruling her in that moment. It was probably for the best that she take the advice Lady Galadriel had given her a few days earlier and actually traverse the words of Lorien. The mental bandage she used to keep the things she'd not quite dealt with at bay had been ripped off.

"I never wish to love," Eregil piped up after several moments of silence.

Brianna and Arwen smiled fondly at her. Arwen reached out and placed a kind hand on Eregil's shoulder.

"Whatever fate has in store for you will be your destiny, of that I am sure," she said kindly.

For her part, Brianna chose not to comment. As Eregil's sisters gently chastised her for believing herself immune to the throws of love and eventual matrimony, Brianna kept her thoughts to herself on the matter. In her experience, if the Triune brought the person meant for one directly to them, then there was no helping the love. It would happen despite resistance and denying it would bring pain.

 _A necessary pain,_ she reminded herself. _One I suppose I'll have to face._

"I do look forward to tonight," remarked Eregil on a subject completely unrelated to romance.

Brianna blinked and took her mind out of herself to pay attention to what the other elves were speaking about. After listening for some time and then inquiring after the particulars she managed to get a direct answer from Luthil. Apparently, at this particular day in December, Lorien's flora released pollen and glowed in various colors of gold, silver, and light blue. This night was a night of magic and the elves left their homes to bathe in it's beauty and participate in the light of the song that thrummed constantly within the earth of Lorien's boundaries.

After several moments of quite thought as the four elf women discussed their plans for the night, Brianna understood the significance of the day. It was December 25th. Technically, it was Christmas back on her world. Or Yule, or solstice, or whatever. Either way, it was a special day for her world where the natural powers of the created world congregated the strongest. The elements were most alive on those special days where she was from and, apparently, Arda's calendar was similar enough to mirror Earth's for one of those days to fall on Yule.

 _It's Christmas,_ she thought as felt that strangeness which had been following her around the entire day.

It was a strange thought to have in a world that didn't have a concept of Christmas and all that it entailed. The history of the holiday, what it meant to different cultures, and why the elves of Earth held that particular day in such high regard. Arda had their own traditions, of course, though Brianna didn't precisely know what they were and suspected they varied widely from elf kingdom to elf kingdom.

As that thought passed through her mind Brianna noticed the collective silence from the other elf women and returned to the present once again. She grimaced at her lack of attention to the conversation at hand. It was rude, she was being rude, and her inability to focus embarrassed her.

"Forgive me, ever since I've begun learning the ways of your magic I've found myself… lost in thought more often than I usually am," she apologized.

They smiled and Arwen responded, "Worry not! All is forgiven. All of us have a mastery of the craft in some form or another and have experienced the side effects. If I may, would it trouble you to share your current thoughts?"

Brianna was happy she hadn't been thinking of things that were of a more personal nature and could, actually oblige her audience with something happier than her homesickness and "tragic" love life. She leaned back on her left hand and fixed them all with a smile.

"Well, there's a sort of holiday in my world that many humans celebrate called Christmas…"

* * *

 _December 25th - three o'clock in the afternoon, Gondor_

Loki was not known for his rashness. In the thousands upon thousands of years of his existence he prided himself on thinking through each and every major decision that affected his life. As a raiphahim, he was in a particularly unique position that so many of his own kind refused to acknowledge. Some even looked on him as an abomination and traitor to their particular purpose of existence. A raiphahim was to pervert the purpose of the Triune. They were meant to show the effects of the Fallen Seraphim and Cherubim intermingling with the elves. To them, the rejected the notion that the elves were the picture perfect image of service to the Triune. They hated the notion that such dim beings with flesh and blood could ever be blessed beyond them and be prophesied to produce the lines that would hold a special place as the proverbial Hand of God. Heylel ben Shachar was the first to fall and take a third of his kind with him, but Abaddon was the first to take an elf maiden, ensnare her mind, and rape her. She'd born the child half made with sorcery and corruption and produced Ba'al - an abomination to the elves, dragons, and what would later amount to the Fae - and the elves hadn't quite known what to do with him. Ba'al was before Loki's time, but from what he'd heard, the elder raiphahim had betrayed the peoples who'd attempted to accept him as a son of their race and joined his father in the earlier stages of the rebellion. Abaddon had gone on to sire three more children with different elven women. The Morrighan had been one - a prized daughter he both adored and hated - and Asherah and Astarte had been two others.

The ironic thing about Loki's birth was the fact of his particular father. Heylel ben Shachar had never participated in the rape of elven women though he strongly encouraged it among those he ruled. The Grand Eldar, Ailiya had never been able to fully divine what it was, exactly, about Loki's mother that had appealed to Heylel. The only thing Loki knew about her was that she was the sister of Silmarliel ven Geat. Neither were part of one of the great elven houses. In fact, their clan had served the elven House of Aldura for countless years. Heylel had stolen Loki's mother in the proper fashion and took the time to both break and woo his mother to the side of the Fallen and then proceeded to mate with her.

It was supposed, later on, that had the course of Heaven's Children gone a different route, that his mother would have united their races in marriage with a good, bright, and shining Heylel. After all, what could have explained the elf woman's complete and total fall for the monster that was Heylel? What could have explained Loki - a raiphahim born of such a union and living in the evil conditions of his father - turning away from all of it to join the side of the light by betraying his father and leading to the eventual death of his mother and the hands of his very own aunt. At the end of the great war Silmariel ven Geat was crowned queen of the elves, his father was locked away into the four winds, and the universe of that time became a massive wasteland with little habitable planets left.

All supposed that there was always a sense of goodness within Loki that his fellow raiphahim had sorely lacked. Such wasn't, actually, the case. The light of the elves, no matter how corrupt they became, remained for all. After speaking at length with Ba'al, Asherah, and his numerous other brothers and sisters, Loki learned they all felt the pull of the light, but chose to stamp it out. Loki had thought long and hard about where his loyalties lay. He considered the growing insanity of his mother and the arrogance, conceit, and underlying hatred for anything that was exuded by his father. Loki had made his choice because the logic demanded it. What Heylel wanted, what his ultimate goal happened to be, was unattainable and Loki came to the conclusion that all of it must be stopped.

The memories of a past long faded into a time that had long since faded from the memories of all mortal races settled in his mind as Loki looked out into the vast sea. Wind touched his face and played his his dark hair kept long and tied back at the base of his neck. His eyes raked the rolling waters as they boiled with sea foam and something far more sinister than sharks. Karen had very keen eyes and was always the best to be placed on early morning watch. She'd been the one to spy the creature in the far distance. For all he complained of their recent unprofessional - rash - behavior Loki had to admit that they were good hunters. Mafortion - a bumbling idiot half of the time - had managed to train them passably.

Beside him, Prince Imrahil looked on at the horror approaching them face as white as a sheet. Loki didn't blame his fear. Krakens were notoriously terrible creatures to behold and it seemed as though the enemy had no qualms about bringing one or two sea monsters with them.

Karen and Matt, to this day, had no idea how Loki talked their captors out of killing the lot of them and he intended to keep it that way. By his nature, Loki was a very secretive person and that nature was violated profusely by his personal conversation with the prince. It had, thankfully, been enough to sway the prince though even then it had been close. Prince Imrahil was a stern man and grave man. It was a personality trait reflected in the eyes of his eldest son, but not shared among his children and wife. All of them were afraid of the evil that haunted them. Loki knew that his presence would feel questionable to anyone with any sort of extra sense. Raiphahim all shared the feeling of complete and total wrongness.

"This creature is from your world?" The prince asked.

"It is. The kraken isn't a natural creation. Dark magic had a hand in creating it," Loki offered.

"And you can kill it?" Prince Imrahil asked.

Loki chuckled, "My skills aren't quite adept enough to take down a kraken. My companion, Miss Gillian; however, is most adept at bringing down ginormous creatures."

"Has she ever killed a creature such as this?"

Loki hummed and said, "No, not one this large. She's been looking forward to killing this one ever since a tentacle peeked out of the waves."

As if summoned by Loki's remark, three long tentacles shot up from the water and tore an unmanned ship to splinters. Both men winced at the ferocity of the act, but didn't back away from their vigil.

"When does your friend plan to fight the beast?" The prince asked.

Loki frowned. It was a good question. Where was she? He turned to look back at the palace on the hill and squinted to see if Karen had left the place yet. His eyes settled on a mass of straight red hair blown wild in the sea breeze. From his vantage point he watched her move bits and pieces of metal round and about making a sort of machine. Beside her, Matt frequently sketched and erased something on a slab of slate with a piece of graphite in his hands. They were far enough away that Loki hadn't quite been able to make out everything they were about, but he made a few deductions. Karen clearly had a plan. It was bold, possibly too bold, but it would serve its purpose in solidifying the trust of the people of Dol Amroth.

He turned his gaze back out to the sea. The creature approached swiftly now, but it didn't matter. Whatever previous menacingly slow bliss it originally operated under was gone and replaced by a sense of urgency likely felt keenly by its handler. The increased haste would be futile. Karen was almost finished. Loki looked back to the palace to confirm and nodded to himself. Whatever she'd made was ready and being aimed at the kraken.

"Your friend is waiting until the last possible second," Prince Imrahil grumbled.

Loki grinned as the beast reared out of the water and lunged for the docks. He could practically smell the stink of its open mouth as it prepared to swallow one of the larger, manned, ships.

"My dear prince," he began as a deadly hiss cut through the air.

A harpoon made of Arda's steel alloy approximately ten feet long buried itself in the depths of the kraken's open mouth. It stumbled and fell just before reaching the larger ship. One stray tentacle landed on the starboard bow and splintered the uppermost deck before sliding back into the ocean.

At a glance at the prince's stunned expression Loki continued, "One cannot rush an art as delicate as beast slaying."

* * *

 _December 25th - early night hour in Lorien_

Lorien, on a normal night, usually had little lights of pollen floating about the various little flowers released every hour or so. This night was different by virtue of the mallorn trees that grew around them. Not only were they releasing their pollen into the air, but the entire shimmered and thrummed with a song that was woven deep into the soil. Brianna loved every minute of it. The elves of Lorien joined that song with one of their own for a few minutes at a time. Even the professor and her aunt joined in every once in a while. Sometimes they went out into the forrest floor and danced with the other elves as they same, sometimes they'd stand and walk while singing a melody Brianna had never heard before. There were moments she caught Professor Moruni standing in a corner clearly caught in the past looking forlorn. When Brianna had asked what memories she'd experienced in that moment the professor had smiled and shook her head.

"Good memories, Bri, but they were so long ago that I rarely think of them," she'd said.

At one point early in the night, Artemis stood abruptly from her seat on the lawn and walked into the forrest. There was a bitter expression in her eyes and her hands had balled into tight fists. Brianna, curious, made as if to follow, but Professor Moruni stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

"No, Bri, best not become involved. Your aunt's regretted more in her life than most, even you. Let her feel them tonight," she said.

Brianna accepted that, but still looked on her aunt's retreating figure until it disappeared in a white ethereal mist.

Around the time Lady Galadriel began to pass around sweet bread and fruit Arwen and Glorfindel stood and began to dance in the crowd together as one entity. Brianna's breath caught in her throat at the sight. They moved in sync with each other with each intricate and difficult movement. In that moment, Glorfindel didn't look like the great warrior Brianna knew he was. Instead, he was a man and before him was the woman he loved and cherished beyond life itself.

Unbidden, song and verse sprung from her throat.

" **Hark! the herald angels sing,**

 **"Glory to the new-born King!**

 **Peace on earth, and mercy mild,**

 **God and sinners reconciled."**

 **Joyful, all ye nations, rise,**

 **Join the triumph of the skies;**

 **With th' angelic host proclaim,**

 **"Christ is born in Bethlehem."**

 **Hark! the herald angels sing,**

 **"Glory to the new-born King!**

 **Christ, by highest heaven adored:**

 **Christ, the everlasting Lord;**

 **Late in time behold him come,**

 **Offspring of the favoured one.**

 **Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see;**

 **Hail, th'incarnate Deity:**

 **Pleased, as man, with men to dwell,**

 **Jesus, our Emmanuel!**

 **Hark! the herald angels sing,**

 **"Glory to the new-born King!**

 **Hail! the heaven-born**

 **Prince of peace!**

 **Hail! the Son of Righteousness!**

 **Light and life to all he brings,**

 **Risen with healing in his wings**

 **Mild he lays his glory by,**

 **Born that man no more may die:**

 **Born to raise the son of earth,**

 **Born to give them second birth.**

 **Hark! the herald angels sing,**

 **"Glory to the new-born King !"**

 **("Angels We Have Heard on High" by James Chadwick, Bishop of Hexham and Newcastle)**

A happy laugh startled her as the last note drifted through the air. Professor Moruni clapped and nudged her.

"Is that all you have, Davis?" She asked.

Brianna grinned, stood, and added another, joyful, song to the chorus around her. She began to danced and sing. The elves, those who were intuitive, joined in the chorus the second time she sang through it.

" **I danced in the morning when the world had begun**

 **I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun**

 **I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth**

 **At Bethlehem I had my birth**

 **Dance, dance, wherever you may be**

 **I am the lord of the dance, said he**

 **And I lead you all, wherever you may be**

 **And I lead you all in the dance, said he**

 **'Tis the gift to be simple,**

 **'tis the gift to be free.**

 **'Tis the gift to come down**

 **where we ought to be.**

 **And when we find ourselves**

 **in the place just right,**

 **'Twill be in the valley**

 **of love and delight.**

 **Dance, dance, wherever you may be**

 **I am the lord of the dance, said he**

 **And I lead you all, wherever you may be**

 **And I lead you all in the dance, said he**

 **When true simplicity is gained,**

 **To bow and to bend**

 **we shall not be ashamed.**

 **To turn, turn**

 **will be our delight,**

 **'Till by turning, turning**

 **we come round right.**

 **Dance, dance, wherever you may be**

 **I am the lord of the dance, said he**

 **And I lead you all, wherever you may be**

 **And I lead you all in the dance, said he**

 **I danced in the morning when the world had begun**

 **I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun**

 **I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth**

 **At Bethlehem I had my birth**

 **Dance, dance, wherever you may be**

 **I am the lord of the dance, said he**

 **And I lead you all, wherever you may be**

 **And I lead you all in the dance, said he**

 **Dance, dance, wherever you may be**

 **I am the lord of the dance, said he**

 **And I lead you all, wherever you may be**

 **And I lead you all in the dance, said he"**

 **("The Lord of the Dance/Simple Gifts" by Blackmore's Night)**

All around her the world shimmered. The elves who joined in the chorus clapped and danced with her. Joy filled her, an unparalleled joy of the likes she'd never felt before. As she turned and began to run through the song again to teach it to some of the elves who wished to learn, she missed the change in the world around her.

* * *

Professor Laurel Moruni; however, didn't miss anything. She didn't miss the way her foot tapped in time with the beat, or the itch in her fingers to join in with the dance, or when she caught herself humming the melody despite herself. Beside her, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn looked on with the same barely contained reserve she felt. The Lady caught her eye and raised a single blond brow.

 _Such a long way in so little a time,_ Laurel heard in her mind.

 _She's always been adept at magic. Brianna's good at picking up concepts, but not very good at completely understanding them,_ she replied.

 _This is more, Laurelie. Lorien does not accept the magic of another lightly. She's changed the tune of my magic without rejecting me._

 _I doubt she knows what she'd doing._

 _She doesn't._

Laurel pursed her lips as she considered the meaning of this new development. For the magic of Arda to accept her so completely could only have meant one thing. The rulers and authorities in the world recognized Brianna and fully accepted her. Not only had they accepted her, but they were allowing her to weave the magic of earth into the foundation of Arda.

 _You knew this would happen,_ she thought accusingly to the elf Lady.

 _We came here as a rejection of the elven sovereign. We wished to explore, become something else, and rule our lives as we saw fit. This culminated in the kinslaying perpetrated by my brothers and their followers. Those who did not murder our fellow elves, but sought lives outside of Valinor, followed them from the Undying Lands and were rejected by the Valor. Now they allow us to return, one-by-one as each remnant of the eldar regains their favor. When we leave there will only be the wild ones to remain. They will be tamed by this new magic and take the mantel we've so long rejected. Should Sauron be defeated, this is the direction Arda will inevitably go._

There wasn't much more to say on the matter. Laurel had known from her previous travels that the elves who inhabited other planets originally left earth to escape the terror Prince Uranus and Princess Gaia had unleashed among the peoples of earth. While she and Athena had begun a mending between their peoples it seemed as though Brianna, Aracasse, would further that mending in Arda.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

 **Prince of the Dead**

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Well, hopefully I'll be able to update this story more consistently again. I'm hoping I can get another one out before the beginning of February as my new hubby and I will be moving from an apartment into a house. :) All the busy things! Anyway, please enjoy this slightly shorter chapter than most and stay tuned for the next one that will contain a shit-ton of Aragorn ^_^!_

* * *

 _December 26th - Isengard - night_

Daenith looked across the barren wasteland that once held an entire forrest to the tall tower of Isengard. Like the tower in Mordor, Isengard was tall, had a bulging building clearly used for general living and receptions, and a few windows crawling up to the top room. All around it great hulking beasts roared and groaned. Whips cracked, the beasts called wargs howled, and a general amount of rage could be heard throughout the land. It was impressive, but it wasn't an environment that the sorceress liked to live in.

 _We want their help in our war, so we help them lay waste to their world_ , she thought.

Beside her, Hades strode confidently surveying the jumble of stinking bodies. A smirk slipped onto his face as he turned to see his own army clamoring behind them. One of their generals, a sorceress of Hades' age, looked on in disgust. The expression must have been mirrored on Daenith's face because when Hades glanced at her a laugh erupted from him.

"Yes, it's quite terrible, isn't it? They're uncovering what are known as Urukai and are using the trees of Fangorn to forge weapons and armor for them . A great army will march with us across Rohan and destroy the land. While we march you will remain here until word reaches Saruman's ears that my little niece is close. When she is, you will find her and place my nephew's curse into her," he said then closed his eyes and shook his head. "Oh for the strange need for one's family! She is the remnant of Athena, his half-sister, and oh how he hated her."

Daenith raised a brow, nonverbally asking why such was the case. She hated not being able to speak. Her voice had always been her pride and joy. Not being able to use it in the most mundane of conversations was mortifying. Hades nodded to her and continued.

"Aries is the firstborn son of my brother, Zeus. He was born of Hera, my brother's wife and told since he was old enough to understand speech that he would be king. I don't know when Zeus began getting it into his head to bed other women, but his first dalliance was with a human woman and begot Perseus. Then there was the night he shared with Demeter, my younger sister and his elder, which begot my wife. He continued in that fashion until he met the one I've always assumed to be his mate, Metis. From Metis came Athena who was born with the mark. Aries always had a love-hate relationship with his younger sister. She was brilliant at tactics, strategy, and politics and I think he loved her for it at first. Then she left for many years, enabling us to kill Zeus and elevate Aries to the elven throne. She returned later and challenged him for the crown. Aries, Persephone and I fought her and she defeated us, but couldn't bring herself to kill us," Hades smiled and Daenith felt a shiver crawl up her spine at the sight. "It was most disappointing. I'd thought the one whom humans worshipped as the goddess of wisdom and war would have seen the benefits of killing her own family, but I suppose she couldn't stomach it. She locked us away for what is now seen to be our benefit than our punishment."

Daenith thought on that idea. Through the progression of this particular mission she saw the minds, of what she'd been told by both Nyx and Hecate, were the most brilliant of their kind. Hades, Persephone, and Aries were powerful conduits of magic and darkness, but whatever flare they'd once had was gone to be replaced with their most carnal desires. Hades wanted the royal line to be so soiled and broken that it would take a miracle to fix it. Aries wanted to rape the mind, body and soul of Athena. As his sister was dead, he made do with her great-granddaughter. Persephone wanted freedom of a sort, but seemed at a loss to how she would acquire it.

For many weeks, Daenith began to wonder if being stuck in hell was the punishment Athena had meant it to be, considering the end results before her. Hades had the ability to not only summon demons and Fallen from their prisons in Hell, but could also give them form. Aries was… basically a disgusting piece of filth bent on raping and killing everything in his path. Persephone, while an old shadow, was the only one of the three who'd retained any semblance of cunning and used it to her advantage.

She kept those thoughts to herself. If she allowed Hades to see a kernel of her heart's turning on display then her life would be forfeit. Any personal plans she thought to make in rebellion to their will would be for naught. A desire settled within her like never before. She not only wanted to defy her masters, but she wanted to stop their intent for the elven queen. The realization was slow in coming and left a strange taste in her mouth after she was finished thinking on it.

In the thousands of years of her life, Daenith had lived to dominate the men of England who'd locked her mother, Igraine, into a loveless marriage with King Gorlois of Cornwall. He'd beaten her, defiled her, and debased her at every turn. Igraine had been a sweet woman who'd loved a young male elf. While her father had never endeavored to become a knight elf, he'd been a vain creature who enjoyed the fact that a human woman loved him. He'd taken. Igraine and left her disgraced in her father's house only to be sold off to the only man who'd have her. When King Uther had come into the scene, Daenith had been old enough for humans to consider her an adult at the time. Igraine, being part high fae, was still young in appearance though she was far older than the young woman of eight and twenty depicted in the legends. Uther of Albion was young, cocky, and bold. He'd seen Igraine - a picture of ethereal beauty and elegance - and wanted her as if she was some prized mare.

Daenith's hatred for men had settled around that time and she'd promptly left her mother's house after the wedding and traveled to the stronghold of Morgause, her eldest half-sister from Gorlois. In her presence, she'd begun her journey as an acolyte of The Morrighan and quickly rose to a position of prominence among her coven sisters. Morgause and Morgana were at her side the entire way while Elayne rejected them and chose the love of her pitiful human husband over the devotion of her sisters. At Morgause's downfall and Morgana's disappearance, Daenith found new companionship in her coven sisters, Nyx and Hecate. The three of them used the entirety of the middle ages to seduce the lords and kings of England for their amusement. They had no care in who they hurt, whether they were sowing discontent among the peoples of England and the rest of Europe, or which innocent life they murdered for their carefully crafted rituals.

Hecate's fate had transformed Daenith's opinion of the people she chose to follow. The way Nyx was so callously treated by Aries enraged her. Daenith's own treatment as some carrier for a curse that would enslave the mind of the elven queen made her sick. It brought forth memories of a time she would have rather forgotten, of her mother cowering in the corner with a jagged cut across her cheek because she dared to question Gorlois, and little Morgause cursing Igraine's weakness.

These thoughts and feelings were something knight elves weren't supposed to have. In the process of giving oneself over to the magic an elf, or prospective sorcerer or sorceress, had to purge themselves of all sentimentality and love. Such were signs of weakness and disgrace. All of her sisters but Elayne had gone through the ritualistic cleansing. Daenith had been the one to first cleanse herself of such emotions, yet, somehow they persisted. At first, she'd attempted to ignore them, then quell them, but to no avail. As her hatred for Hades, Aries and Mab grew so did her sympathies for the elven queen's fate should their plan succeed.

She closed her eyes for a moment as Prince Hades raised his fist into the air to call for their army to halt. Daenith pulled her horse to a stop and released a quiet breath. That terrible part of the journey was complete. It was unfortunate that such a journey ended with her being sequestered in such a disgusting place as Isengard.

As Daenith and Hades entered the tower they were met with the sight of the wizened shell of an elf Persephone had become counseling her gathered coven of sorceresses. All of them were dressed in pomegranate red riding cloaks and white stained leathers. Each of the coven-sister's heads were bowed in reverence as the elf explained their tasks in ancient greek. Daenith had never bothered to learn the language. Her dominion had been in Ireland where the wizard-kings of legend had ruled their small lands with their small minds. In the advent of the Middle Ages the playing field changed and Daenith had learned English. Ancient Greek had never once interested her.

She wished she'd never been so short-sighted.

The movement of a rainbow of lights and colors caught her attention and Daenith turned her full attention to a grand, circular, staircase that rose for several hundred feet before her. An old man strode down the steps with back straight and head held high. His staff was clasped by both hands and drawn before him across his body. A steel, grey gaze pierced through them and caused a creeping sense of unease to wash through her veins. This man was of the same, dark, ilk as Sauron. Behind him, Queen Mab descended dressed in sheer silk that clung tightly to her slim figure. A diadem of dark obsidian crowned her beautiful blond head.

' _Oh? Have you crowned yourself Queen of the Faerie already?'_ Daenith wondered, though she didn't project the thought.

"Prince Hades ven Turthin has at last come to Isengard," the wizard stated as if such an obvious statement was needed.

"And before me is the high wizard, Saruman the White, and the Dark Queen of the Faerie, Mab. I am honored," came the lilting voice of the Prince of the Dead. "I see my wife is preparing for a hunt."

"Word has reached us," Saruman said gravely, "that the Ring has left Imladris' protections and travels southeast along the mountains. They seek to pass through the mountains by virtue of the Gap of Rohan. We intend to head them off and have her coven kill the protectors and bring the four hobbits to Isengard."

Queen Mab's blood red lips drew back into a malicious smile as she remarked, "I almost envy her. It would be exhilarating to have some fun with the men."

Normally, Daenith would have agreed with her, but her current disgust with her current lot was so great that she wanted nothing to do with her masters. The fact that she'd been reduced to such a pathetic state rankled her. As if sensing her thoughts, the wizard's gaze met hers and his chin dipped ever so slightly in a near imperceptible nod. Daenith kept her expression carefully blank so as to not draw attention to their interaction. Saruman was clearly perceptive, or he could read the surface thoughts of others. He was likely going to attempt to bring her over to the side of Sauron.

He needn't bother, her mind had long been made up without his help.

"Should we send the Siren?" Hades asked.

"No, the elf queen isn't with the Fellowship. I have word from Erebus that her trail leads to Lorien and does not travel beyond. My spies have also divined a troubling occurrence," Mab said.

"Which is?" Hades asked.

"The presence of your niece and the professor. There is strong evidence of both in Lorien though neither could be confirmed," the Faerie Queen replied.

A dark expression crossed the Prince of the Dead. Daenith watched him silently, curiously, as his jaw visibly clenched at the mere mention of the professor and Artemis ven Turthin. Laurel Moruni had not been a professor at the time of their interaction, but she had taken a badly cursed Athena from the palace at Olympus without letting on she'd ever set foot in the building and crossed the Great Expanse to the planet which Arda resided on. When Athena had returned, so did the professor and she became instrumental in Athena's rise to queendom. His niece, the Lady Huntress, and her twin brother had led the uprising.

"We must be vigilant, then," Hades said. "Both are dangerous and must not be allowed to gain footing. Tell Erebus to waist no time. Once our little queen leaves Lorien, he must capture and take her to Isengard. Until then, Daenith will stay here and wait for the queen to come to us."

"A wise decision, your highness," Saruman said dryly. "Until then, we have work to do."

The leaders walked into a council room and left Daenith to her own devices. She watched them, lips turned to a frown, and eyes narrowed in their direction.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

 **The Cult of the New Moon**

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Whelp! This chapter is definitely more filler than plot, but it was the best I could manage considering how busy I've been recently. Anyway, Mr. Dehr and I will be moving at the end of the month, so I'm not sure how much time I'm going to have to write going into March, but we'll see what we can see. The next chapter is more plot centric and will actually have some action in it, so I might update later than I want to. We'll see :)!_

 _As a brief reply to everyone who reviewed the last chapter:_

 _I'm so glad everyone's enjoying this story. I'm enjoying writing it and going back and, if everyone stays tuned, I'll be putting out an "Appendix" chapter soon regarding Athena and Thranduil and how the two of them play into my "LOTR/Consequences-verse". I've started writing the backstory and, honestly, I'm liking what I'm seeing and feel the need to share it with you all. It won't be out soon, soon, as I'm still working on it, but the "appendix" is coming along. If everyone likes it, I'll publish more along the way._

 _Anyway, please enjoy!_

* * *

 _December 27th - with the Fellowship of the Ring on the road to Hollin_

The Fellowship had left Imladris in the evening. There was little ceremony and no fanfare. Only Lord Elrond and Bilbo were there to see them off. Aragorn remembered the grave expression on his adoptive father's face as he moved among the company to speak with them and offer words of praise and encouragement. When he'd stopped before Aragorn he clasped his shoulder and allowed a glint of pride to leak through his otherwise severe countenance. Sitting several paces away from the fire, Aragorn allowed the memory to replay in his head, and smiled.

"You are my son in all but blood. Never could I be more bereft at your leaving, nor more proud. Your destiny is before you. Find it, grasp it, and guide it in all you do. You are the best of men, Aragorn, and you will be the best of kings. Go in strength, protect the ring-bearer, and you might have a hand in saving us all," Lord Elrond had said.

"Thank you, ada," Aragorn had replied softly.

Lord Elrond hadn't been finished. He leaned closer to Aragorn and whispered softly, "She is in Lorien. She is safe." It was as if the elf had known Aragorn had been fretting about whether they'd reached Lorien alive. After receiving the reports he had from his men in the North of an influx of dark creatures and discolored elves roaming the land, Aragorn had begun to feel the beginnings of worry settle in his heart. Lord Elrond had relieved it and allowed him to focus completely on the task ahead once more.

A log cracking startled him from his reverie and Aragorn cast a cursory glance around the camp. Once satisfied nothing was amiss, he settled back against the tree he'd been leaning against for the last three hours and continued thinking on the past, the future, and the long road ahead for Frodo. Even so, the sorrow in his heart felt at the loss of what could have been lingered and was likely to never leave. It was easy to push such thoughts to the back of his mind when the day stretched before them. Aragorn was the tracker. He guarded the Fellowship by scouting ahead for the easier paths and more secluded campsites. Where Gandalf pointed he followed and those duties kept him grounded in the here and now. Then the company would sit down for the night and begin their measly hours of rest and those thoughts returned to weigh the forefront of his mind.

It was her choice in the end. She was the one that hailed from another world. The issue Aragorn took with said choice was the allusion from those he long knew and respected that their destiny was entwined beyond their parting at Imladris. If their elders believed it possible Aragorn couldn't fathom why she didn't. He naturally had guesses and various suppositions on the matter, but he couldn't quite bring himself to settle on what he leaned towards as the most likely of reasons. Seeing her and speaking with her once again would tell the truth of her heart, yet he couldn't fathom ever doing so again. Brianna seemed convinced it wouldn't happen, that their last moment in the forrest was the end. As far as Aragorn could tell, such was the case, yet a part of him couldn't bring himself to accept it.

 _Crack!_

The fire drew his gaze. For the rest of his watch Aragorn watched and waited for a revelation from the fire, given by the creator, so he could be comforted. No comfort was given. All he received was the heat that barely shielded the company from the icy winds of the north.

After a few hours, Gandalf rose from whatever contemplative dose he'd been in and urged the company to continue. The way was difficult for the Hobbits. Each flinched at every gust of biting wind and periodically stumbled along the rough path he and Gandalf led them on. Gimli fared a little better while Boromir moved with as much ease as a mere human could manage. Legolas, in his elven grace, did not feel the cold or the difficult terrain. He traveled at the rear of the company's line as his sight and hearing outmatched them all.

Each day passed and a weariness settled on the hobbits as the mountains steadily drew nearer. Night found each of them shivering in their cloaks unable to sleep as well as they would like. Frodo, in particular, seemed to have a harder time of it. During the hours of his watch, Aragorn observed Frodo staring into the clouded night with blank eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing. One particularly cold night prompted him to think on the burden of the ring that they so effortlessly allowed Frodo to shoulder. What sort of cowardice did the greatest among the races have to fear the ring to such an extent that they push the issue of destroying it on one so unconnected with events?

 _You are a coward,_ a voice in the back of his head thought. _You are Isildur's heir! You should bare the ring to Mt. Doom, not Frodo! Not this innocent hobbit who did nothing but inherit the ring! You should have taken it._

Aragorn swallowed at the thought every time it reared its ugly head and wondered if it spawned from his concern for Frodo, or from the ring, itself. He could never tell. The ring had such an influence on the minds of those around it and not just the barer. It's will called for Sauron. As it called, it led to those around it to be tempted by it, to take it and bare it, and give in to the dark secrets it held.

 _It's just a bit of gold jewelry. Any power it has over its victims is completely up to the individual._

He found himself smiling despite his melancholy. Brianna's innocent fearlessness towards the ring and its power never ceases to calm him. It was just a bit of jewelry. It only had as much power as one let it. Which begged the question he'd been considering of late. How much power did Sauron truly have?

"That is the question of the century, my friend."

Aragorn blinked and looked over to find Legolas standing near a thin, spindly, ash tree to his right. The elf smiled and crossed his arms.

"You spoke softly. I doubt the others heard," he offered.

Aragorn grimaced and returned his attention to the small bundle of hobbits huddled close to the fire. Frodo's eyes were closed and his breathing even. Sleep, it seemed, had finally come to him.

"Enemies from another world seem to think the Dark Lord a worthy ally," Aragorn said softly. "It troubles me that they're here. They want something, they need something, and they seem to believe Arda is the place to get it."

Legolas's eyes, normally as cheerful as the brightest of summer skies, grew cold as he replied, "I suspect that might be an over simplification of their motives."

Aragorn waited for his friend to explain, but Legolas simply shook his head and tilted his head in the direction of the others, "Best not to worry our friends on a hunch, Estel."

He understood. Their theories would not be useful to the task at hand. While the evil infestation from earth aided the servants of Mordor and Isengard attempting to understand their motives at this time was pointless. The whole point of sending Brianna and her company to Lorien was so they could discover a way to fight that particular enemy so the Fellowship could focus on getting the ring to Mordor.

"Do you think their task is finished?" Aragorn asked.

"I would imagine not. If the situation is worse than what the queen believes then she will need to linger long enough to expel her world's darkness from Arda," Legolas replied.

Silence settled between them for a time. In this time, Legolas moved to sit next to Aragorn against the tree and both watched their sleeping companions snag the little bit of rest Gandalf would allow.

"It is strange," Legolas said softly, "to know that I have a niece from an older brother I can barely remember. Father rarely speaks of her, but when he does I sense his resentment and regret. As you know, it is common for my father to resent many people, but I've never seen him openly display regret for anyone. I wish I had more time to speak to the queen about her."

"Brianna said she was long dead, her son and grandson along with her. I doubt she ever knew her. If she did, she likely doesn't remember," Aragorn said.

"I know."

Aragorn didn't need the elf of elaborate. He understood the sentiment, the need, to know of a lost parent. In Legolas' case, his mother had taken her eldest son and heir back to Earth and left King Thranduil and Legolas behind. It was, sadly, all Legolas knew and understood. He'd been unable to linger in Rivendell long enough to speak much to Brianna and she'd been reluctant to form many connections with anyone beyond Aragorn and the hobbits.

"We should reach Hollin soon. From there I suspect Gandalf intends for us to pass into Gondor and close to Minas Tirith. I fear I will need to part from Frodo and join Boromir at the city," Aragorn said.

Legolas smiled, "Aye, and I will follow Frodo into Mordor should Gandalf think it wise for all of us to go. He may encourage you to take the younger hobbits with you."

"That is possible," Aragorn said and returned to studying the hobbits once more.

The War of the Rings… it was all coming to head. The climax of an eon long struggle between good and evil loomed before them. Aragorn closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the weight of the worlds on his shoulders once more.

* * *

"Lady."

Persephone held out a gnarled finger while keeping her eyes determinedly closed. A thought had echoed up to her in that moment. It was filled with despair and longing and it tickled the nerves of her second sense. The thousands of years learning from the captured Fallen in hell had honed a skill she'd always had. Her ability to detect emotions and emphathize with them was unparalleled. These emotions, for a reason she couldn't quite clarify, filled her and enticed her need to take those emotions and ensnare them, twist them to her will.

At first, her estranged husband had wanted to call her a siren, but sirens could only manipulated the minds of their victims to a certain extent. Persephone was different. Persephone could turn warm hearts cold and lies into certain truths known in the bone. She could change her shape and ensnare the minds of her victims. Whatever her path through the sorceric arts had started with turned into something far beyond anything Hades ever believed she would have achieved.

Yet, none of it mattered. Persephone had never gained the freedom she'd so longed for ever since she was old enough to understand the political position she'd been born in. The bastard daughter of King Zeus of the Elves, a god of Thunder to the humans, was her lot in life. Hades had discovered such perfect pawns in his greater game. She'd learned long ago that her father had wished to marry her to Aries, her brother and nephew. She'd known the cage of war she was destined for. Hades had made himself out to be the answer to her wishes and that had turned out to only be partially correct. Her magic began to free her, now all she had to do was take it a step further and break completely free.

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped her lips and her red eyes flickered open. Behind her, she felt Eselme stand watch respectfully behind her. Before her, Persephone could almost see the location of the company of males that escorted The Dark Lord's ring to wherever they'd decided to hide it.

"What have you discovered in your travels, sister?" Persephone asked in a broken, cracked voice.

Eselme bowed and replied, "Something peculiar. It could change the course of the queen's plans."

Persephone took that subject from her coven-sister's mind. Yes. It was peculiar. They could use it. A great turmoil existed within the mind of a single member of that company. Self-doubt, a broken heart, uncertainty of the future… she could use it all. Thin, wrinkled lips pulled back into a feral smile that showed off her yellow-brown teeth.

"Prepare the coven! We cross the pass and wait for them in the mountains. The wizard's spies scout the skies. They will notice and cross a different way. It is there we wait," she said.

Eselme inclined her head and turned to bark orders at the other coven-sisters. They stirred quickly and gathered their things. Persephone began the trek down the mountainside to where the land parted to reveal a narrow pass. Soon. Soon she would be free. All she had to do was find the one who held the ring.

* * *

Maf felt the change in the very air he breathed the moment she came. It was abrupt, not subtle and became more potent when the day turned to night. He'd seen her around in the dark corners of the golden hall speaking in soft tones to Grima shrouded in her sheer veil of midnight. Tall, thin, ethereal, and with a voice that soothed a mind into seeing their worst nightmares.

The advent of Nyx, Sorcerous of Nightmares, struck the first nail into what Maf perceived as the proverbial coffin of Rohan. The king, Theoden, waned with each passing day as Grima employed whatever methods Nyx thought to teach him regarding the art of poisoning a man by means of mental debilitation. The king's son, Theodred, looked on in stunned silence at the sudden reduced state of his father's wits while Eowyn and Eomer looked not at the king's health, but at the over-eager Grima and his mysterious and beautiful companion.

"What sorcery is this?" The Lady Eowyn asked one day while she and Maf wondered the rolling hills looking for herbs for his general store.

"The kind that wears a man down and makes him pliable and perfectly ripe for something dark and sinister to move into his mind," Maf muttered softly to the gentle wind.

Dark clouds loomed in the distance on the southeastern horizon. Something evil stirred in their dark depths and Maf closed his eyes for a moment to see what those clouds were willing to reveal to him. A dark look crossed his expression as he pulled back. Lady Eowyn watched him, concern etching worry lines on her face.

"There's more to this conflict then Grima and Nyx. They came her by design to weaken our people and sow mistrust and discord. Everything that has torn my family apart was planned," she said.

Maf felt his heart clench. That expression, so innocent yet not, reminded him strongly of Brianna when she was younger. Before World War II had begun and their team had been finding signs of the darkness stretching its tendrils amongst the European and Asian populations. She'd asked the same question: "there's more."

"Yes," Maf replied gravely, "And it will get worse before it gets better."

Blue eyes, as blue as the waning sky, fixed to his and asked,"Will we survive?"

Maf shook his head. He didn't know. He didn't have much hope of the charge Ailiya placed to him. Wait for the elven queen. She was supposed to come to him, but it had been months since Maf had arrived. He'd ingrained himself into the lives of the people of Edoras and felt personally responsible for allowing Grima's existence to continue to make way for the presence of their own enemies. It was only a matter of time before Nyx discovered his presence in Edoras and saw beyond the faint guise he'd constructed for himself to pass unnoticed amongst the human populace.

He was slowly coming to the realization that moving against Grima and Nyx without Brianna's help was inevitable. Unfortunately, from the way Eowyn was looking at him with a steely determination in her eyes, he was not destined to do it without help. Eowyn, Eomer, and Theodred's involvement was likely to do more harm than good.

"It's certainly looking as if we're all going to get murdered in our sleep, isn't it?" He asked, a thick touch of sarcasm in his tone.

Before Eowyn could reply, Maf's ears, still connected to the enith gilthaes, picked up the tones of a sound both familiar and foreign. He held up his hand, stopping any response she wanted to give and focused on that sound.

" **All shall come to sing like one!**

" **All shall come to sing the melody like one,**

" **Outliving history and time,**

" **So this melody is song to praise and glorify the one,**

" **Who brought the melody into our lives…"**

 **("Melody" by Van Canto from their album, Trust in Rust)**

It was too faint to hear the rest and Maf felt the song fade a few seconds later. Even so, the fact that he heard Brianna Davis belt out the lyrics to a bloody metal band took him for a momentary turn. This was the same elf who swore up and down that she would never, ever, sing for any reason ever again. Yet, here she was, somewhere in Arda, singing her heart away.

 _Why,_ he wondered, _what has prompted this need to sing?_

"Maf?" Eowyn asked, voice small.

The grey wizard started from his reverie and glanced at his young human companion. Eowyn's confused expression almost made him laugh at the absurdity of the general situation. He gently patted her on the shoulder and fixed her with a small smile.

"On second thought, young lady, I think we just might have a chance!" He said, suddenly feeling cheerful despite the current darkness.

The queen was coming.

Eventually.


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

 **Through the Looking Glass**

 **Author's Note:** _Wow, I'm a little stunned that I managed to update so quickly! New readers, don't get comfort with this! I usually update once a month, so savor it! Anyway, please enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the next one!_

* * *

 _\- January 2nd - Lothlorien - Near midnight_

Singing had never been something Brianna particularly enjoyed. When she'd masqueraded as the prime Christine-character for her one and only vocal mission, Brianna had mentally promised to never sing for anyone ever again. Arda had abruptly changed that resolution, beginning with the over-eager hobbits and the perpetually bemused Aragorn whom she then knew only as Strider. Looking back on that moment, Brianna hadn't decided who she was trying to impress. A part of her wanted to say it was all Aragorn, but the more logical, self-deprecating, part of her soul knew in her bones that she'd acted as she had to show off in general. Like it or not, her voice was something gained through long hard days and nights of resolute practice. It had brought joy to those who heard it. It stood for a time less complicated and more straightforward - that time when she was only a huntress and nothing more - and because of this she kept singing.

Ellethil had made a breakthrough one evening with her during their sessions. That particular session had been more conversational than technical. Ellethil had determined early on that Brianna's trouble with harnessing magic through song was mostly psychological. This particular subject had been discussed and left Brianna with the same suggestion Galadriel gave upon her arrival. Walk Lothlorien, preferably at night, and see the wonders. Feel the fabric of Galadriel's magic which protected the land. Use it as a template to see past her own shortcomings and burst into the light.

Brianna was finally taking that advice. This night of January the Second to be exact. She could barely believe it of herself, but she'd ventured out into the woods alone. Arwen had been up at that time and had asked if her company would be welcome, but Brianna had waved her off. She needed to be alone for this. She needed complete and total emersion and wouldn't get that if there was an audience.

As she stepped out of the bounds of Caras Galadhorn, Brianna found herself wandering to the place the locals had named Cerin Amroth and stood still at the top of the hill for several moments. Releasing a shaking breath, she closed her eyes and allowed her body to take in the world around it. The night air drifted across her five senses and sent a shiver of pleasure down the length of her spine. Particles of glowing pollen released from the trees lightly dusted in a pale silver-grey against her skin. Her senses naturally attuned to the elements at large felt the deep beat of the planet the continent that made up Arda rested on. Lothlorien's magic tapped out a gentle rhythm in time with the beat.

She released a long, drawn-out breath as she felt her limbs itch with the need to join in, to dance, to sing. Many songs rushed through her head, classical and modern. A complex weave of emotions bubbled to the surface of her thoughts and left her mind blank as she tried to decipher their meaning. Overwhelmed, a few tears leaked from her eyes and she forced herself to resist fighting them.

 _I'm alone. I can feel. For this moment, I will let myself feel. If I don't all will be lost,_ she thought.

And felt she did.

Everything. Every thought, emotion, longing, and sense of helplessness invaded the surface of her mind. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around her torso as her body began to shake. Brianna stayed like that for a good long while. Emotions amplified, nearly overwhelming her senses, she waited out their torrent. After those several long moments of overworked emotions, Brianna finally managed to settle her mind in a crevasse in the middle of her river of emotions and found her balance. The tremors left her and she opened her eyes, cheeks flushed as the balance of emotions blossomed into what she could only describe as a euphoric high.

Brianna tilted her head up to the high canopy and felt the wind caress her cheeks. A smile spread across her lips and she swung out her arms as that wind picked up a knot and bathed her in the glowing pollen of the flowers blooming on the forest floor. She began to sing, to try out what worked the best in that particular moment in Lorien.

" _High is the moon tonight_

 _Hiding it's guiding light, high_

 _Heaven and earth do sleep, still in the dark so deep_

 _I will the darkness sweep_

 _I will the moon to flight, I will the heaven's bright_

 _I will the earth to light_

 _Open your eyes with me, see paradise with me_

 _Awake and arise with me_

 _I am the dawn, I'm the new day begun_

 _I bring you the morning, I bring you the sun_

 _I hold back the night and I open the skies_

 _I give light to the world, I give sight to your eyes_

 _From the first of all time, until time is undone_

 _Forever and ever and ever and ever_

 _And I am the dawn and the sky and the sun_

 _I am one with the one and I am the dawn"_

 **(The Sky and the Dawn and the Sun by Celtic Women)**

The song wasn't the right one. It fit the moment, but it didn't quite stir the magic the way she'd wanted it to. It didn't have enough abandon, nor did it complete the sense of release she needed to begin working magic. Brianna switched tunes with a "hum" and an "ah" as she crescendoed into another chorus.

" _We are one_

 _We are a universe_

 _Forebears of what will be_

 _Scions of the Devonian sea_

 _Aeons pass_

 _Writing the tale of us all_

 _A day-to-day new opening_

 _For the greatest show on Earth_

 _Ion channels welcoming the outside world_

 _To the stuff of stars_

 _Bedding the tree of a biological holy_

 _Enter life_

 _The tapestry of chemistry_

 _There's a writing in the garden_

 _Leading us to the mother of all_

 _We are one_

 _We are a universe_

 _Forebears of what will be_

 _Scions of the Devonian sea_

 _Aeons pass_

 _Writing the tale of us all_

 _A day-to-day new opening_

 _For the greatest show on Earth_

 _We are here to care for the garden_

 _The wonder of birth_

 _Of every form most beautiful_

 _Every form most beautiful"_

 **(The Greatest Show on Earth by Nightwish)**

As epic as she personally felt that particular song was, Brianna had the sense that it wasn't quite right. It could, possibly, work a different sort of magic at a different time and for a different purpose, but that time wasn't then. She needed a different one, so once again she changed tunes. Another song made its way into her mind and she quieted her initial build up and drew her volume to a mere "hum" as she prepared to launch into the song she was thinking of.

" _Close your eyes, you little dreamers_

 _Numbered as the grains of sand_

 _Do you believe there is a treasure you can't hold in your hand?_

 _Stewards of My great Creation_

 _I will give this gift to you_

 _A language that can speak your heart when words could never do_

 _The melodies will give you wings to fly above Creation_

 _Whenever you can't find the words to say_

 _So My child, I give this gift to you and all the nations_

 _So you can give it back to Me one day_

 _See the child, ashamed and broken_

 _Words can never come out right_

 _Dreams of failure dance in his head every single night_

 _But twelve words in a simple language suddenly make sense somehow_

 _That little boy, once shy and awkward, stands before you now_

 _The melodies will give you wings to fly above Creation_

 _Whenever you can't find the words to say_

 _So My child, I give this gift to you and all the nations_

 _So you can give it back to Me one day_

 _Music is Your masterpiece, Your signature and smile_

 _The glorious crown jewel of all Creation_

 _Gave a voice and sense of wonder to this lonely child_

 _Whose melodies ring forth Your coronation now_

 _And the strings crescendo like the sunrise in the sky_

 _The percussion section thunders like the stormclouds_

 _In their wonder up on high_

 _The brass is roaring like the mighty ocean's tide_

 _Creation is music, and music is Creation_

 _All the earth, a symphony of balanced majesty_

 _All of life, a melody with four-part harmony_

 _The rhythms march in great complexity_

 _Creation is music, and music is Creation, let it sing"_

 **(The Gift of Music by Theocracy)**

When she opened her eyes the branches of the trees and the stalks of the flowers had turned in her direction. It was nothing compared to the iridescent crystal of light Brianna has sung into existence before her. It acted like a vine, spinning up from the earth and reaching for the trees above. For a moment her heart stopped as she stared blankly at what she had inadvertently done. Triumph coursed through her as she sat back on her heals and admired her creation.

She made as if to stand, but felt her body buckle and collapse into itself as the world spun before her eyes. The grass acted as a barrier between herself and the hard earth. Carefully, she pushed herself first to her side and then onto her back so she could look to the sky. Despite being drained of most physical and mental energy, Brianna still grinned. It wasn't exactly where she'd wanted to be skill-wise, but progress had been made. With her song, something beautiful had been created.

Once the world ceased spinning, Brianna pushed herself from the ground and began working her way to her feet. Parts of her body didn't want to cooperate, but she forced them to allow her to stand anyway. Once she felt the grass beneath her bare feet once more she looked to the foot of the hill and saw Lady Galadriel standing silently watching. Brianna looked back at her for a long moment then lifted a hand in greeting. The lady did the same, then beckoned with her long pale fingers. She turned and strode away from Cerin Amroth.

Confused, still slightly disoriented, and still far more tired than she needed to be, Brianna followed.

* * *

 _January 9th - Hollin, morning_

The birds at Hollin were the first sign of things to come. Aragorn and Sam had spotted the lot flying from the pass and heading toward Hollin as if a dark hand was guiding them. Aragorn had pulled Sam from view and then told the others of that new development. Gandalf had looked troubled, but unsurprised. The others were slightly irritated at the fact; especially when Aragorn bade them to put out the fire. The hobbits took a particularly disgruntled air about them with Pippin going so far as to remark on their shared discomfort.

As they waited the day, the hobbits conversed amongst themselves about several points of their journey. Merry, Pippin, and Sam all questioned the wisdom of leaving at the beginning of winter and wished they could have left in the beginning of spring. Boromir chimed in with his opinion a time or two and prompted Merry and Pippin to turn on him with eager questions about spring in Gondor. There was a sad note to Boromir's words as he took a great deal of time explaining the solar festival celebrating the first flowers.

"The people dance in the streets of Minas Tirith wearing wreaths of the first flowers they picked earlier in the day. My father held a feast for the noblemen and women where dancing, drinking, and all around merriment would ensue. He would, of course, force me to dance with the woman he wished to betroth to me, Lothiriel, but she is a pleasant woman and I knew her well enough that the feast would pass with enjoyment," Boromir said with a far away, wistful expression in his eyes.

The hobbits, of course, wanted to know more about Gondor after that to which Boromir was more than happy to oblige. Aragorn watched, heart heavy, as he privately considered the story. In the last few years, the people of Gondor were in the throws of a great war against the enemy. They likely didn't participate in the solar festivals and Boromir, from what it seemed, was sparing the hobbits that bit of information. From the other end of the little grotto the company hid in, Gandalf watched the exchange with a frown.

"Are you betrothed?" Pippin asked.

Boromir laughed. This one was slightly more nervous than his usual jovial gawfaw. Aragorn and Gandalf's brows quirked in unison. Both exchanged an amused glance.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Boromir replied cautiously.

"Is she the one your father wanted you to marry?" Merry asked.

"Yes, though neither of us particularly want to go through with it," Boromir replied hesitantly.

"I should think not!" Sam piped in. "No one should be forced into marriage! There's the chase and the dance that makes the romance special. When your eyes meet those of that one girl who will take your breath away when the sun shines on her hair, you'll never want anyone else."

"Well aren't you the romantic one, Sam!" Frodo said, grinning. "One would think you have a particular girl in mind."

Sam's face turned an embarrassing shade of bright red which prompted the hobbits, Boromir, and Gimli to snigger quietly into the bush. Once the laughter died down Boromir's expression sobered.

"You're not wrong, Sam. It is because of this that Lothiriel and I have long sought ways to dissolve the match. We have been unsuccessful so far, but I am hoping the tide will soon turn in our favor," he glanced at Aragorn when he said this.

Aragorn sighed and kept his vigil at the front of the little hollow. Sam's attempt at describing love was innocent, pure, and without the stain of duty, honor, or the fact of separation; however, he wasn't wrong. There were many benefits to marrying for love. Both he and Boromir understood that it likely wasn't going to happen for them.

Dusk finally peeked and brought the sun down with it. The birds, which had been flying about all day, whirled away south. As night fell, Aragorn stood and nodded to the rest of the company. It was time to go. The others looked as if they'd rather stay in the safety of the shelter, but also relieved that they were moving all the same. Gandalf looked troubled.

As they packed the hairs on the back of Aragorn's neck pricked and his hands stilled on his own bag. A glance at Legolas and Gandalf told him that they'd felt it as well. A sinister presence was about and it knew they were there.

"I will go," Aragorn mouthed.

Before anyone could protest, he buckled his sword to his hip, swung his bow and quiver over his shoulder, and slipped out of the safety of their little hole. The cold winter air dusted his cheeks with its biting wind. Bits of snow particles made the bite worse and he winced as a particularly harsh gust pulsed into him. He drew his hood over his head and slipped into the hills above.

Save the winter weather threatening to overtake them there were no signs of life as far as he could see. Aragorn stepped lightly off of the path Gandalf had chosen for them and slipped through the rough countryside. That sinister feeling continued to plague him with each passing moment. His hand rested on his sword hilt. Whatever hunted him would show its face sooner or later.

Rocks shifted behind him.

Aragorn drew his sword as he whirled around and pointed it at the dark-cloaked figure stepping out from behind a tall bolder. The hood was drawn over its head and the black cloak covered most of a long, slim, black dress. He leveled his sword at the creature as each and every sense screamed that something was amiss. Long, dark sleeves raised themselves and fell back to reveal a pair of pale arms. Thin, feminine fingers reached up to the dark hood and pulled it back away from its face. A familiar pale of amused teal eyes blinked at him. Aragorn froze. His lips parted, but no word followed.

 _This isn't possible,_ he thought.

Brianna stood before him and he was quite certain that she wasn't supposed to be there.

* * *

 _January 3rd - Lothlorien at about three in the morning_

Galadriel didn't speak as she led Brianna through the woods back towards Caras Galadhorn. Silence settled between them like a thick curtain and it both confused and intrigued her enough to maintain the silence and allow the lady to break it when she was ready. As they approached the city, the lady veered away from it slightly and led Brianna down a small path along the edge of "civilization". After another five minutes of silent walking, Galadriel slipped under a sheet of green vines. Brianna followed suit and blinked at the sight before her.

A tall pillar stood in the middle of a modest clearing. At its top rested a wide basin and the lady stood beside it holding a pitcher. She smiled kindly at Brianna and motioned to the basin.

"We are at the stage of your training where it is imperative that you fully understand the gravity of this war and the high cost error could cause. Will you look into the mirror? Will you see what you must see?" She asked.

Brianna blinked. The importance of this moment was in her bones. After lingering so long in song and meditation the magic of Arda weighed heavily on her.

"What is it I'm supposed to see?" Brianna asked.

Galadriel smiled, "Things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass."

Brianna quirked a brow at that and remarked, "Past, present, and future? Will it be mine, or others?"

"The mirror will only show you what relates to you even if it is not completely apparent at that time," Galadriel said with a small note of warning added in her tone.

Brianna swallowed. Apparently, whatever she was going to see was not going to be particularly happy. She breathed in, then out, and then nodded.

"Alright, I suppose there's something you think I should see. Might as well get it over with," she said dryly.

As Galadriel filled the mirror, Brianna stepped up to it. The still water shimmered with a blue light before images began to fill its surface. A tall elf woman with dark brown hair stepped up to a blond haired elf who strongly resembled Legolas. She reached out her hand and took his, a soft smile on her lips and love reflected in her grey eyes. The image faded and was replaced with the same brown haired woman looking at a small, blond haired elf-child staring up at her with tears in his eyes. She shook her head and stepped away from him to join another elf, this one an adult, with short-cropped brown hair and the same storm-grey eyes. The air shimmered before them and the elves disappeared.

Once again the scene changed, but only to reveal blood and fire. A strangled cry escaped her as the vision of her parents fighting Lord Garvellion - the elf lord who betrayed her family - filled the basin. Her father pushed her mother from him as the knight elf rushed for them and the two began to fight. Another knight elf - one of the ladies Brianna had executed during her brief stint as ruling queen - stabbed her mother from behind. Her father fought on, despite her mother's death affecting him, but to no avail. Garvellion landed a crippling blow and bore her father to the ground. Frandron ven Aldura, King of the Elves, looked up to the ceiling with a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes. Those teal eyes - her eyes - looked straight at her. Brianna's heart stopped and she forced herself to keep from crying as Lord Garvellion ripped out her father's throat with his bare hands.

The scene changed as her hands started to shake. It showed Aragorn, sword pointed directly at her, eyes wide as if he couldn't quite believe she was there. Brianna's eyes squinted at her image. She wore the black ceremonial robes of Persephone's coven, but that wasn't right, was it? Before she could look closer the scene changed again. This time, she wore a light blue dress and looked far more normal than she had before. Aragorn stood before her, hand placed on her cheek, and lips moving rapidly. Brianna watched as her future, or possible future self, stepped away from him, shaking her head. The scene changed again and Brianna was chained against the wall. A tall elf with hair as dark as midnight and the symbol of The Morrighan painted on her forehead looked down at her coldly. She opened her mouth and darkness burst forth with each unheard syllable. The darkness entered this Brianna and she writhed against the wall, eyes screwed up in pain. The scene changed again and this time Brianna was beside a tall male elf with storm-grey eyes heavily tinted with molten yellow of a sorcerer. Before them stood Aragorn, once again, eyes determined and pained. Brianna watched as the knight elf leaned down to whisper in her ear. As he pulled away, her vision-self lifted her hand and cast a stream of fire at Aragorn. He lit up in flames before he could attempt to move out of the way.

This time, as the scene changed, Brianna did cry out, but she didn't move away until the scene changed to force her to see the carnage of the futuristic battle. Everyone was dead. Arda was in flames. Mordor had won. A great, tall tower rose above the carnage and on it sat a great man with ears pointed, yet longer and narrower than an elf's. Eyes like molten lava cast their old immortal gaze in triumph as they surveyed the decimated world around him. Between his legs sat a hunched figure - and elf - with her bronze head bowed. He reached forward and grabbed her hair, yanking up to force her to look at the world below. Dead teal eyes stared at nothing. There was no emotion, no life, only a shell in the place of the elven queen. Abruptly, the scene changed once again and a great eye wreathed in flame filled the basin. Steam rose and bathed Brianna's nose with a putrid odor. She made a face and stepped back, eyes cold. Slowly, she raised her hand and waved it over the basin. The water turned to mist and floated away.

Carefully, Brianna stepped away and looked to Galadriel. The elder elf's eyes were closed and her head bowed. Brianna controlled her breathing to keep the hysteria building within in check. Such was made particularly difficult after the previous use of ardanian magic.

"I suppose you saw all of that, too?" Brianna asked and pulled a face at how alarmed she sounded.

Lady Galadriel nodded, "Yes. Parts of what I, and others, have seen now begin to make sense and argue in favor of what has been suspected by myself and Laurelie."

"Which is?"

"That the stakes are high and depend solely on your ability to let go of past fears and embrace the good before you."

Brianna's brow furrowed. The lady opened her eyes and fixed her with a long, serious, gaze.

 _Is this truly so difficult for you to understand? Have not the visions of what is to be spoken to the truth you know in your heart?_ Galadriel asked in her head.

Brianna glared at her and snapped, "Try not to speak to me in my head when you're right in front of me!"

"Forgive me, that was out of line," the lady said. "Still, denying that truth doesn't change the future. If you don't accept your fate, our worlds will fall into ruin and the Dark Lord will prevail."

Brianna clenched her jaw and fought the urge to run. The lady wasn't wrong about her. She didn't accept her fate and had been dodging it ever since she purged her court of knight elves and traitors with barely any restraint.

"The Dark Lord had me. He's looking for me along with Aries, Hades, and Persephone. Why? Do they all want the elven throne?" She asked.

Galadriel remained silent for a good long while before answering, "The Dark Lord doesn't want the throne. He wants to taunt the one who created all by enslaving you and keeping you by his side like his master did to the Silmarils. You're a prize to him and nothing more."

Brianna shivered. It was almost worse than what Hades had planned for her… almost. She swallowed and finally found the courage to ask about the one things she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to.

"And Aragorn? What was… what was the mirror trying to show me?" She asked thickly.

In her mind, Brianna could still see her fire vaporizing his flesh and the expressionless, emotionless face she had while committing the horrifying murder. That scene had cut her deep, like that fire had touched her heart and melted half of it away. How could she have taken Aragorn's life without feeling a thing?

"It is your fate should the enemy ever trap your soul and subjugate it to their dark purpose," Galadriel answered simply.

Brianna thought back to the image of that one dark haired knight elf speaking darkness into her. Slowly, she crossed her arms around herself and forced her body to remain still. Even so, a small tremor of fear broke through every so often.

"I've heard of that curse, but I didn't think anyone actually knew how to cast it. All knowledge of it had been purged after the First War," she whispered.

Silence descended between them like a hammer. Galadriel watched her. It made her skin crawl, knowing that such a matron of her people observed the fraying of Brianna's nerves.

"They would have planned to cast it and I suspect they have orchestrated a grand scheme to infect you with it. There is only one way to escape it," Galadriel said.

"I know," Brianna whispered.

The problem, was that Brianna didn't want to face it for fear of what she would find if she did.


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

 **The Flame of Arnor**

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Good day! Long time no see! Sorry for the two month hiatus! My husband and I moved into a new house and between unpacking and working on some of my other writing projects this story was pushed into the back burner. I still work a full-time job for now, so I have to divide my time between fun writing (i.e. writing fanfiction) and outlining the novel my character, Brianna Davis, actually appears in. I've also been playing around with cover art and have been using this story as a way to practice, so expect a new cover to appear shortly._

 _Anyway, please enjoy the chapter. Most of the dialogue follows the book's with some noticeable differences._

* * *

 _January 9th - Hollin, night_

The cold steel of his sword nearly tumbled from numb fingers as he gaped at the vision before him. Brianna stood beside a towering boulder. A serene smile that caused a faint blush to dance across his cheeks graced her lips. Teal eyes roamed over him before she met his gaze. Her dark-clad chest rose and fell - doing an extraordinarily good job of showing off the top mounds of her breasts - and shapely hips swayed as she stepped forward to meet the point of his blade.

Aragorn swallowed, attempting to generate some saliva for a suddenly dry mouth, and forced his eyes to focus on her face. The act didn't hold his growing need at bay. The way she looked at him suggested she wanted him to keep looking in the most inappropriate of places.

"You are very quick to draw your sword, my lord," she said playfully and tilted her head to one side to show off her bare neck.

Aragorn blinked rapidly to regain some semblance of composure. For a moment, he wondered if this was a dream. It had happened before in a waking vision, or a memory of her laugh during a short night of light slumber. Possibly, a lesser man would have made the assumption that this apparition was a trick of the mind. Aragorn was no such man. This wasn't a dream and this apparition seemed a little too good to be true.

"You're here, how?" He asked, tone measured.

Brianna smiled and took a few confident steps forward. Aragorn didn't lower his sword and continued to keep it trained in front of him at the center between her breasts. He swallowed again as his eyes fell on the blatantly revealed part of her body. It would be a lie if he didn't admit to thinking on her breasts occasionally. The uniform she'd worn when they'd first met had covered them, yes, but little was left to the imagination.

"I needed to see you," she whispered.

For that one moment, Aragorn wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe she would abandon all duty, all of the world, all sense of morality to leave her quest and seek him out. The Brianna he knew, the Brianna he loved, wouldn't. There was too much of a sense of right in her conscience for her to act in such a thoughtless, passionate way.

 _I would think less of her,_ he realized. _I know this._

How he knew this, Aragorn couldn't say. The strength of his conviction surprised even him and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Must we always meet like this?" She asked lightly.

His eyes bore into hers. Looking at them closely, he noticed that they were missing the royal blue flecks that helped them color as teal. He'd missed it before, but now Aragorn knew to suspect something was amiss. This apparition was too wrong to be real. His grip on his sword ceased its uncertain tremor and his gaze hardened and he continued to look into the false Brianna's wrong eyes.

The sensual smile became amused and the false Brianna asked in a tone harsher than any the true Brianna could ever produce, "I suppose I should always concede defeat when it happens."

The illusion was shattered by her change in tone thus making it easier for Aragorn to respond dryly, "Your attempt at taking on her likeness is admirable, but you mistook her nature."

The false Brianna cackled and replied, "It's not easy to mimic the mind. Still, many don't notice. I'm impressed. You keep her well-hidden. The elves of Arda are not completely hopeless as I once thought."

The false Brianna backed away from Aragorn's sword and began circling him like a carrion. His sword followed her movements warily. It would be too much to hope that the person before him was there for any altruistic purpose.

"Such devotion!" The false one continued to lament, "I'd give anything for such a generous gift as a faithful love, but alas! My husband is far more like his late brother than he wishes to admit!"

She waived her hand and her skin began to melt like ice in the heat of the first spring sun. What was revealed caused bile to rise in Aragorn's throat. It wasn't that the elf was old. Wrinkled skin, frail limbs, and white hair were as much a part of human life and some half elves chose mortality and aged. This creature was not merely wizened. Two boils grew on one side of her nose and at the bottom of her chin. Long, yellow fingernails peeked out from under her voluminous sleeves and curled like mangled claws. Rotted, yellow teeth grinned at him from behind a pair of black lips.

Unbidden, he shuddered at the grotesque sight.

The Knight Elf - he observed that her ears were pointed and heavily wrinkled - threw back her head and released a shrieking cackle, "Do I offend you, ranger?"

"Yes," he said darkly and prepared himself for battle.

She sniffed and waived a casual hand. Aragorn felt as if someone shoved him violently in the chest and knocked him off of his feet. His grip on his sword broke as his back hit the frozen earth and Aragorn rolled down the hill and came to rest in a patch of smooth rocks. Disoriented, he blinked up at her as she approached.

"You know where my niece is," she hissed, "I will need to acquire that information. I'm assuming it would be too much to hope that you will give it willingly?"

In answer, Aragorn spat in her face. The hag hissed in response and grabbed the back of his head by his long black hair and forced him to meet her gaze. Aragorn's vision blurred with the pain.

"I don't need to torture you, Ranger, only to rip it from your mind," she hissed.

The smell of her breath made Aragorn gag. She grinned. A pressure descended on his temples as her mind attempted to force its way into his own. He grunted in pain and began to struggle against her. The knight elf cackled and continued her relentless attack against his mind. Aragorn's vision blurred once again, but his fingers touched the charmed bracelet Brianna had given him looped about his belt. Not quite knowing what he was doing, his touched one of the charms and felt the form of a long knife morph into his hand.

Without a second thought, Aragorn thrust the knife into the sorceress' abdomen. The hag shrieked and Aragorn was thrown back against the jagged rocks.

Aragorn groaned as he forced himself to his knees, knife held firmly in his hand. The sorceress bared her teeth at him and crept forward with rage painted across her face. The new wound in her abdomen leaked blood as black as an orc's. She raised a finger and began chanting, fell words resounding in the air around them. Aragorn's temple broke out in sweat from the heat and pressure building around him. Before the hag could finish her incantation, a bright light flared and she was knocked from her feet and into a boulder ten feet away.

The heat and pressure lifted and he looked down the hill to find Gandalf climbing the last remaining feet to where Aragorn knelt. His gnarled staff was pointed at the hag as she staggered to her feet. Another hiss slid passed her teeth. Yellow eyes fixed themselves on Gandalf and glared with such hatred that even Aragorn was taken aback. The wizard, for his part, remained grim.

"You will leave this place, sorceress, and you will not harass us again," Gandalf said, command ringing in his tone.

She cackled and raised her arms. Seven dark-cloaked women emerged from the shadows around them. Aragorn staggered to his feet, knife poised for its next deadly strike.

 _I doubt it will be any more effective than the injury I inflicted on the hag,_ he thought.

"Do you truly believe yourself greater than I, wizard?" the hag cackled, "See the might of my sisters!"

A dark chanting echoed in the air about them. Aragorn's breath turned ragged as the air, once again, became dark and dense. Gandalf didn't show any visible reaction to the spell being woven around them. He stood erect, and slowly raised his staff. Aragorn ducked just as another bright pulsing white light erupted from the tip of the wizard's staff in a fury. The force of the eruption caused the hag and her coven to stagger and their voices to falter.

Immediately, Aragorn sprang from the ground, scooped his fallen sword back into his hand, and swung the blade at the nearest stunned woman. In one, swift, stroke the elven-crafted blade severed the sorceress' head from her neck. Another sorceress turned on him, dark fire pooling in the palms of her hands, and attempted to grab his stomach and throat, but he stepped nimbly to one side and made another carefully placed blow that cut off her head. Black fire burst from the hands of another sorceress and Aragorn spun to avoid it. She sent another stream of black fire and Aragorn raised his sword, allowing the blade to take the brunt of the magic. Orange flames began to flicker along the length of the blade. She bared her teeth. Pointed incisors pricked her lips.

Aragorn danced across the rocky terrain as another sorceress - this time an elf wearing red leather and brandishing a sword - attacked with a vengeance. As the surprise of his and Gandalf's initial attack faded, the ferocity and coordination of their attacks increased. The sorceresses moved like shadow and smoke. They were faster than him and could perform feats of sorcery known to a small few in Arda. He ducked as a burst of burning darkness burst forth from the sorceress with the elongated incisors. The knight elf followed her coven-sister's attack with her dark blade which Aragorn blocked with his own.

They entered a dance. The human sorceress cast her fell darkness, Aragorn dodged only to exchange a few blows between himself and the warrior elf. A little ways away, Gandalf wielded Glamring and his staff against the foe with the hag standing several feet away with her eyes closed and hands raised. Aragorn pivoted from another burst of darkness and dropped to a low crouch to avoid the swing of the knight elf. The elf glanced at him and nimbly moved away from him as he thrust his sword toward her abdomen.

The knife from Brianna's bracelet was still in his hand. Aragorn's eyes flickered to the sorceress the moment he flicked his wrist. The knife flashed in the bright light of Gandalf's magic as it soared through the air and buried itself in the chest of the human sorceress where her heart should be.

She sputtered. The elf shrieked and bore down on Aragorn with a vengeance. He barely moved his sword in front of him to deflect her blow when her black boot shot up from the ground and connected with his jaw. His head connected with the sharp rocks and the world blurred. When it focused again the elf stood over him with her sword raised for the kill when an arrow made its home in her temple.

For a moment, the elf teetered in place before listing sideways and crumbling to the very rocks Aragorn lay. He struggled to prop himself up on one shaking arm as Legolas crested the hill with an arrow trained on the hag. The wrinkled elf's eyes had shot open and gaped at his friend as if faced with her worst nightmare.

"F… father…" she breathed.

 _What?_ Aragorn wondered and looked to the elf prince once more.

Legolas looked just as bewildered as he felt. Then, uncertainty gave way to shock and faded into a wrath Aragorn had never seen expressed by the typically cheerful elf.

"No, though I was told to have a resemblance," Legolas replied airily though there was a note of steel underneath. "I do regret to say that this is the first and last time you will meet me, Aunt Persephone."

Silence descended. Even Gandalf peered at Legolas uncertainly for a moment before giving a gruff shrug and muttering something unintelligible under his breath. The remaining sorceresses looked from Legolas to the named Persephone as if unsure of what to make of the situation.

"No…" the hag breathed, "no… there was only one son. She brought back a single heir. She said there was no other family. She said… she said…"

"She lied," Legolas replied. "My mother lied. There was always another. I am Legolas Thrandulion, Prince of Mirkwood and the elves, son of Athena ven Aldura, High Queen of the Elven race."

He released his arrow. Persephone moved out of the way, but not soon enough to avoid being pieced in the shoulder by her nephew's arrow. The remaining acolytes jumped into action by shielding their leader and creating a black ball of magic that obscured the group from sight. When it dissipated, they were gone and Aragorn, Gandalf, and Legolas were left to stare at the empty night they left behind.

* * *

 _January 10th - 11th - Caradhras_

They returned to camp to find the rest of the company ready for departure. No words were spoken as they watched their three companions gather the rest of their things and set out towards the high pass over Caradhras. No protest was given, though Boromir and Gimli were seen exchanging doubtful looks. Aragorn didn't comment their distrust. It wasn't unfounded. The pass would be difficult if not perilous, but they didn't have a choice in the matter. The enemy was about and they were looking for Frodo and Brianna. Frodo was their easiest target should the enemy descend on them, but all of them had knowledge of where Brianna was. Aragorn knew it wasn't protected, not in the way it needed to be. If any of them were caught, Lorien would be in danger. With that in mind, Aragorn led them with a grim determination. Legolas matched his step, hand gripping his sword as if afraid the hag who was apparently his aunt would attack them at any moment.

The episode in Hollin wasn't mentioned to the rest of the company. This was a decision the three of them had made shortly before returning to camp. It was best the hobbits be spared of the possible threat lurking in the distance. Gandalf had also ventured to suspect that the three of them had dealt the hag a crippling blow by killing half of her coven and wounding her twice in the process.

"We must focus on getting over the mountains," Gandalf had said gravely, "we will deal with this Persephone as she chooses to reveal herself."

While Aragorn hadn't completely agreed with that plan, the urgency of the matter left no room for argument. None of them knew where the coven had gone to recuperate and the company was in too vulnerable of a position to stay in Hollin as Gandalf, Legolas, and Aragorn hunted them. Caradhras was the best path in that their enemies would likely not follow, so it was over Caradhras they went.

Snow met them farther down than he'd anticipated and after a good while Gandalf called a halt to their progress. The snow was up to their boots and threatened to spill into their feet. Aragorn flexed his cold figures in an effort to keep them from going numb.

"I feared this," Gandalf muttered. "What say you, Aragorn?"

"I feared it as well, though not so far south and not this far down the mountain," he replied.

Despite himself, Aragorn felt a shiver wrack threw this body as it reacted to the snow at the cold. His clothes were close to being completely soaked through as each barrage of ice latched onto him and melted from the waning heat of his body. Vaguely, he noted that the snow was beginning to coalesce on his sleeves and wrists.

"I wonder if this is brought about by the enemy?" Boromir asked. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow."

"His arm has grown long," Gandalf confirmed grimly.

It seemed as though everyone took the wizard's remark as confirmation that the snow storm was of the enemy. Aragorn hadn't wanted to give voice to the conclusion. In all his years in the wild one hard lesson he'd learned early on was the unpredictability of the weather. Just because it _didn't_ typically snow this far south or this far down the mountain didn't mean it would never happen. Such deviations were rare; however, and the particular nature of the storm made him less certain.

The wind died and the snow diminished into flurries. Gandalf signaled for them to go on. Aragorn dropped behind to help the hobbits through particularly dense patches of snow. All of them were soaked to the bone. Pippin shook so much that he'd almost slipped from Aragorn's grip. It wouldn't have taken much for such an instance to occur. His hands were numb. Moving them began to hurt and Aragorn couldn't feel his brow and nose anymore. After an hour he started to worry that the company would find themselves turning back before they could make it halfway up the mountain.

Aragorn found himself meeting Legolas' grey eyes, then Boromir's green and Gandalf's blue. Hope had gone out of them and was replaced with misery and a sense of failure. Wordlessly, the four of them came to a stop. As they did so, Aragorn finally made out the fell voices and howls of insane laughter hiding in the wind. Suddenly, he heard a great crack and looked up. A great boulder tumbled down from the snow-obscured mountain side above and missed the company by several feet.

"We can't go any further tonight," said Boromir over the howl of the wind. "There are fell voices in that wind and that stone was aimed at us!"

"That very well may be," Aragorn said while looking around for a place to shelter them, at least a little from the storm. "I suspect this is not the work of the enemy. There are many things in the world that are evil and unfriendly who have little to do with Sauron and have little love for things on two legs. A few have been in this world longer than he."

By this time, the hobbits and Gimli had gathered around the company shivering violently in the angry cold. Frodo looked worse off than the rest of them. His skin was completely white and there was a blue tint to his lips.

 _If I could conjure fire I could keep them warm,_ he thought then looked to Legolas.

His friend had never shown signs of knowing much magic. If he had any, the small shake of his head was enough to tell Aragorn that fire was not a magic he had access to. Elven magic would not save them this day.

"This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf," Boromir said as he helped Merry out of the snow. "We can't sit up here and wait for the storm to pass. We must turn back."

With an agreeing grunt, Gandalf reached into his pocket and fished out a leather flask. He handed it to Aragorn who immediately uncorked the top and took a small draft.

"Its _miruvor_ a cordial of Imladris. Pass it around, but don't take much more than a drop," Gandalf warned as Gandalf handed the flask to Boromir who had been about to tip it back and take a long draft.

"Do we continue?" Pippin asked through chattering teeth as he accepted the flask and took his own sip.

As one, all eyes turn to Frodo who was being held in place by Sam and Gimli. The young hobbit, if possible, looked even whiter than before. He opened his mouth to respond, but only the harsh chattering of teeth could be heard. Before Aragorn could move, Boromir bent down to clasp Frodo's shoulder and inspect him.

"We can't make any decisions now," Boromir said stoutly, "let us start a fire and make an attempt to warm ourselves before we proceed."

Legolas and Gimli rushed to the pony, Bill, to unload the firewood they'd packed before ascending the mountain. Aragorn and Boromir moved to begin packing snow into tall white walls in the hope that they would stay the wind. It took Gandalf's magic to spark a flame to light the firewood. Aragorn and Boromir shepherded the hobbits around their meager fire and waited until they ceased their shivering before moving before the fire themselves.

"What is our next course of action?" Legolas asked. "We can't return to Hollin and make our way south to the Gap of Rohan. It's there I suspect Persephone to attempt to head us off again. She won't attempt to trick Aragorn again and she won't fight me in the open."

"Who is this Persephone you speak of?" Boromir asked.

"That night in Hollin, before we attempted to climb the mountain, I had felt an evil presence in the air and went to go investigate. The sorceress, Persephone, attempted to trick me, but I was able to see past the illusion. Her coven descended upon myself and Gandalf and Legolas, but we were able to fend her off for a time. We suspect that, should we meet her in battle as we are now, we will not fare as well," Aragorn explained.

"Why was this not mentioned before?" Boromir asked, alarmed. "We have waisted time in traversing Caradhras when it's clear to me that we should have taken another route!"

"And time was lost because of it!" Legolas snapped. "We are aware of this folly, lord, and nothing else is to be done other than deciding on our next course of action."

"If not the Gap," Frodo began, "where then will we go?"

"Moria," said Gandalf who spared a brief glance at Aragorn.

Aragorn, for his part, grimaced at the idea. He wasn't the only one. Boromir frowned, Legolas shuddered, and the hobbits exchanged worried glances. The only one of their company who's interest was piqued was Gimli's.

"Is Moria our only choice?" Boromir asked.

"Yes," grunted Gandalf.

Once again, all looked to Frodo who seemed to shrink away from their stares and the flames that illuminated him in the waning afternoon. Aragorn's heart went out to the little hobbit. A burden greater than any of them carried weighed heavily on his shoulders. In a small way, Aragorn understood his fear at leading them wrong. After all, Aragorn had suggested the path of Caradhras and had, consequently, led them ill. Now Frodo must choose between going through the ill-fated mines or return to Rivendell in disgrace.

"Let us go through the mines," Frodo said. "It is better to perish there and let the ring be lost than to give it over to the enemy."

What was most important were the words that Frodo didn't say. It was better for Sauron to never get the Ring and for Brianna to deal with him significantly weakened should they all die in their efforts to reach the other side of Moria. It was a morbid edge, but an edge all the same. Aragorn took in a shaking breath and slowly released it. Moria was a terrible place to die, but it seemed like there was no choice in the matter.

"Agreed," replied Gandalf gravely. "We had better begin our descent."

Boromir moved away from the fire dusting the beads of melting snow off of his tunic and hair, "Well then, Aragorn, best we begin our work."

"Indeed," Aragorn said and joined the man in pushing and molding the snow into a wide enough path for the company to move through.

To the Mines of Moria it would be, then, despite Aragorn's misgivings on the matter.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

 **An Echo in the Bone**

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Rejoice, my readers, for this author has been blessed with the last few weeks of slow work! How long that will last, I can't say. Depends on how quickly madness descends upon us mere mortals at the workplace. Until then, please enjoy the fact that I actually kept to my monthly updates schedule and produced a halfway passable chapter. I'm not completely happy with it, but after much thought and careful crafting I decided that this would be the best route to take. I wish I had more time in my day to study Aragorn's character more closely for the past several fellowship scenes, but when one has other projects to work on fanfiction research often gets put on the back burner._

 _With that being said, I've had several reviews lately letting me know about certain issues with the story. As an example, a few have pointed out that Brianna and Aragorn have two scenes where she reveals her age. I'd like to take the time to thank everyone who reviews letting me know of any oversights I may have or, better yet, reminding me that I fucked up the continuity. Please, by all means, keep it up!_

 _Likewise, I've had one review from the last chapter that was anonymous (which isn't a bad thing) letting me know that they can't continue the story because they aren't sure what's going on. I don't mind reviews like this. I don't mind anonymous reviews like this, but please for the love of Arda let me know where I lost you! I can't grow as a writer and story-crafter if I don't know where the plot ran away from a particular reader._

 _Anyway, with that out of the way, please enjoy this chapter. If you don't enjoy it, let me know!_

* * *

 _January 10th - Lothlorien - Night - Cerin Amoth_

Brianna, Artemis, and the Professor gathered on the hill parsing through their current dilemma. Which song, or songs, were they going to use to heal the breeches. It was a difficult choice. Between the three of them they knew enough songs to rapidly evolve the entirety of Arda's future. Not only was there a question of song choice, but there was also the issue at how they were going to direct the magic. Artemis figured they could use wind-based magic. The professor reasoned that runes would better serve their needs. Brianna wasn't sure which one would work and knew that deliberating too long would allow their enemies to continue weakening the expanse to a point of no return.

Crisp cool wind danced around them as winter battled for dominance with the spring created by Lady Galadriel's dominion over Lothlorien. It played with the trees causing grey shadows to flicker about them. Night birds sang their evening songs attempting to drown out the loud chirps of happy crickets, grasshoppers and cicadas. In the sky, a half moon cast its silver gaze upon them.

Brianna paced the length of the hill wringing her hands nervously trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. Her audience watched her silently with identical looks of incredulity.

"When you're finished worrying yourself to death feel free to let us know," the professor quipped.

"Oh hush!" Brianna snapped. "I'd like to freak out in peace, thanks!"

Artemis looked up from where she sat cross-legged on the ground cleaning one of her long knives. Her storm-grey eyes glinted in amusement and a smirk played on her lips.

"Pretend you're hunting with your voice. You've done it before," she said.

Brianna glared at her, "I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

"Is that any way to speak to your superior officer?" Artemis drawled.

Brianna snorted, "I _am_ your superior!"

"Children, do try to focus. We have a great feat of magic to perform and a good deal of preparation to make before we begin," Professor Moruni said.

Brianna threw up her hands and snapped, "That's what I'm doing!"

"No, you're procrastinating. Figure out what you want to sing before we begin."

Silence descended between them as Brianna ceased pacing and moved to sit opposite of Artemis on the soft grass. Wind danced and the songs of bird and bug alike rose in happy chorus.

"You have an instinct for this sort of thing," Artemis said softly, "you always have."

Brianna sighed and said, "I wing it most of the time. This is something more complicated than anything I've ever done before."

"That's why we're here," Professor Moruni said, "Any gaps in knowledge you have, we can fill."

"Now, which do we use? Wind or runes?" Artemis asked.

Brianna rolled her eyes, but didn't respond. Wind and runes. Wind to carry and runes to direct and pierce the expanse. If they could create an opening into the expanse and move their song through it with wind, then that could spread the magic about without needing to use _enith gilthaes._

"Professor, what's the exact equation for passing through the Great Expanse?" She asked absently as the shadow of an idea began to form inn her mind.

"I'll need to write it down," the professor replied. "What do you have in mind?"

Brianna smiled and used fire to sketch out the general foundations of her plan.

* * *

 _January 14th - The Mines of Moria - Night_

Entering Moria had proved as much of a disaster as the path of Caradhras. The major difference was their inability to escape the Mines once whatever beast living in the glassy pool guarding the entrance destroyed the doors. They'd walked for far too long before arriving at an impasse. Gandalf didn't remember the path he'd taken long ago and needed to take a good long while to ponder the course going forward. This left time for the company; especially the hobbits, to rest their eyes, minds and bodies from their arduous journey.

Aragorn slept fitfully on the rocky floor of the mines. No tender thought of love possible could comfort him that night. Thoughts of past friends, family, and peace calmed the storm of fear within. His previous memories of passing through Moria plagued him. The horrors he'd witnessed and fought in turn. The death, the evil, and the darkness. Always, there lingered the feeling of something more foul and evil than he'd ever faced before. Upon entering the mines this time around, Aragorn felt the same evil only keener than before. It troubled his mind and left him wishing they could turn around and leave.

 _The more I think of it, the more I believe Boromir was right. We should have chanced the Gap of Rohan and whatever Saruman inflicts on us,_ he thought.

Neither had the wisdom of Gandalf; however, and he knew the wizard always had a purpose for everything. If Gandalf believed it better to pass through the mines, then there was a reason for it. Aragorn only wished Gandalf wouldn't keep it to himself.

Occasionally, he opened his eyes and looked to where Gandalf sat hunched over on a bit of rock smoking his long pipe. It struck him that, had the situation been less dire, Aragorn would have found the wizard's need for his pipe amusing. Sadly, the way was dark and some concern surrounded them in the mines that place Aragorn on edge. After several attempts to sleep, Aragorn rose from his resting place and joined Gandalf in his vigil.

The wizard glanced at him before returning his gaze to the darkness puffing his pipe contemplatively. Aragorn followed his gaze and sat in silence. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the cold stale air of the mine.

"Moria unsettles you," Gandalf remarked.

"It has always unsettled me," Aragorn replied. "However, I trust your wisdom, my friend, and will follow you."

The wizard smiled and blew out a thin wisp of smoke. Silence followed their brief exchange broken only by the occasional stirs of their companions. Even Legolas, in a rare display of weariness, slept with his back against a tall boulder.

"There's an evil hidden deep within these caverns," Aragorn said, breaking that silence. "I can feel it in the air. It chokes my senses and fills my heart with dread. I know not what it is, nor do I understand what it means."

Gandalf grunted, took a moment to breathe in and out his pipe, and said, "I suspect it's the general feel of the air. Try to sleep, Aragorn, I know it will be difficult for you, but do try. We will need your strength."

Aragorn's brows knitted together at the dismissal. For a moment, he considered questioning his friend further but the stress of the past several days weighed on his mind. In the end, he stood from his seat and settled back on the small pallet he'd made from his pack and cloak. Sleep didn't come quickly, but when it did his mind descended into an easy oblivion.

Gandalf woke him hours later with his decision on which way to go in mind. Aragorn caught the expressions of the rest of the company and knew that they held the same opinion as he. Moria was a wretched place and Gandalf barely knew where he was going. Even so, it was better to move than to stay in one place.

They walked for many hours through the dark, close path. No light, but the light of Gandalf's staff, led the way. Aragorn chose to fall to the back of the company with Legolas. Should some fell thing ambush them from where they came, his friend wouldn't face it alone. It was many hour before they noticed that the path they chose widened into something like a road and the air became warmer, but brighter. Their pace quickened their pace and hearts lightened. Aragorn tempered his hope, knowing that the way of Moria was deceitful and would give hope where there was none.

Suddenly, they stepped into a wide cavern of darkness and the warm air caught in the pocket of road they'd discovered was pushed behind them. Fresh, cold, air met their faces and Gandalf briefly chanced a flash of greater light.

"I chose the right way," said the wizard, pleased. "We've come to the habitable parts of Moria and are not far now from the eastern side."

 _Or so we hope,_ thought Aragorn, but kept his misgivings to himself.

He didn't trust the peace of Moria, nor did he trust the clean air. Something still felt foul, dark, and evil. Even when he'd journeyed through the mines all those years ago, the feeling had been there. He read it fainter than he at present, but the general tint of the evil was the same. Aragorn chanced a look at Gandalf and noticed the grim expression on his face.

"We will go no further tonight," Gandalf said. "I think it best we rest here until the morrow. There are windows that let light in from above. In the morning, I'll be able to tell exactly where we are."

Aragorn would have gladly chanced missing a good night's sleep to hasten their progress out of the mines, but at a glance to the hobbits he knew that such a feat wasn't possible. Even Boromir looked weary. Grudgingly, Aragorn set out his pack and spread his cloak on the ground with the rest of the company. The pitter-patter of soft feet from the path behind him echoed in his ears.

There would be no chance of sleep for him this night.

* * *

 _January 14th - Lorien - Night - Cerin Amroth_

They'd camped at the foot of the hill for four days as they conducted the needed preparations. Brianna went through pages of parchment and several wells of ink packed with them for their journey. From time to time, Arwen or Glorfindel or Elrohir and Elladen came to visit with food and drink. Brianna paid very little mind to either as her mind had long given way to the study of runes and the particular song she needed to sing to weave it all together. She'd spent days trying to decipher a good song to use. When she wasn't immersed into the final calculations of her runic equation, Brianna was attempting to find a song, or series of songs, that would maintain the momentum of the runic and magic she'd already combined. So far, she'd settled on one. It was a good song, but it couldn't carry the magic for the amount of time she needed it to. More would need to be added and the trick was making sure they flowed well.

In time, after careful thought and numerous consultations, Brianna managed to perfect the marriage of ardanian and earthen magic. The process had wearied her more than she initially thought it would. On the evening of the third day, Brianna passed out where she lay on the warm ground and slept the night away under the watchful eyes of her aunt and mentor. When she woke late in the afternoon on the next day, Artemis had food ready for her.

"Thank you, aunt," Brianna said as she accepted a plate full of cheese, apples and freshly cooked fish.

"No problem. You haven't eaten much in the past few days and you didn't sleep at all. We figured you could use the sleep," Artemis said.

Brianna smiled as she placed a slice of cheese on top of an apple slice and bit into it. Her aunt watched silently as she ate. Her gray eyes held an expression that Brianna couldn't identify. After a while Artemis began sifting through Brianna's notes detailing her thoughts on what would go into the runic equation and why. Some of those notes and additives were written by Artemis and the Professor, though her aunt had very little to contribute on the runic side of things. Artemis had never needed to learn to use runes the way Brianna had and; consequently, knew less than the professor and Brianna combined. She did; however, know a great deal about how the wind element worked and made helpful contributions on that aspect of the magic.

"I know you, Bri," Artemis said after a while once Brianna finished her meal, "I know what is expected of you. I know what it is the enemy has planned for you and I know how you can effectively stop their plans from coming to fruition."

Brianna grimaced. Lady Galadriel had much to say on the matter and had made certain that Brianna knew the gravity of the situation. It still didn't calm her initial set of fears that plagued her heart and mind.

"I also know you and what you've been through and how much that effects your willingness to accept the good presented to you," Artemis continued. "If you ask me what my advice would be - as someone who's seen you at your worst - it's this: should you see him again, and I suspect that you will, accept him. I know it's hard for you to bring yourself to that point where you can, but you will regret it for the rest of your existence if you don't."

Stunned, too stunned to say anything in response, Brianna stared at Artemis as the older elf fixed her with the saddest expression she'd ever beheld on her. The absurdity of the moment struck her. Artemis, the unmarried, virgin, princess of the elves and leader of the hunters, was giving her what effectively amounted to dating advice.

"What could I give him that he can't find anywhere else in Arda?" she asked. "I'll have to leave one day, aunt. In any case, he's human. He'll be dead in a few decades and I'll be left alone in this world to linger on. I can't live in such a world. What if it's better for everyone that I remain unwed and return home after all of this is over and done with?"

Artemis sat in silence for a long time. She stared down at a particular page of notes she held in her hands with unseeing eyes. Brianna looked away from her and began gathering the rest of her notes into a pile.

"He is your mate, isn't he?" Artemis asked.

Brianna tensed as, once again, the urge to flee from the conversation overcame her. Such an urge was ridiculous. Discussing the possibility of _him_ being her mate was just as important as figuring out how they would mend the decaying expanse between earth and Arda.

"I've… considered the possibility," Brianna admitted.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Artemis roll her eyes.

"And I'm sure you know the answer. You just don't want to admit it!"

Brianna sighed and said, "You're right. I don't."

They didn't speak again for a long while. Brianna couldn't bring herself to say more on the subject. Thoughts of Aragorn and what he was to her caused too much pain. Every night she thought of him and the possibility of what he could mean. To be bound to a human as a mate in marriage would mark the exact day of the death of her ability to feel joy. Upon his death, her soul would be shattered and there would be no repairing the pieces. She would linger on as queen of her people ruling with no joy, hope or purpose. It would be as if she were already dead.

Yet, when she closed her eyes at night, she saw his face and felt his calloused hands on hers. She remembered his rare smiles and laughter. Every song and story, every move and gesture, and every soft gaze would flash through her memory.

"I get it, Bri, I understand more than you know," Artemis said softly, interrupting Brianna's thoughts.

She looked to the older elf who stared at her with undisguized pain. Confused, Brianna opened her mouth to inquire further, but Artemis held up her hand and shook her head.

"It isn't… it isn't what you think. I merely chose duty over love and have been forced to watch as my mate copulates with various human women over the years. At this point, I can't bring myself to forsake my vows because I know he's been with others and has fathered many children before me. It shouldn't trouble me, considering what I initially chose, but the reality is difficult for me to stomach so I choose to ignore it. You won't have that luxury, not if Aries gets what he wants. Trust me when I say this, I've seen this sort of binding curse in action once before. Once they cast it, once they claim your heart, mind and soul, you will be subject to Aries and only Aries. If he instructs you to kill your mate you will do it and you will feel nothing. What little left of you won't have any say in the matter," Artemis said.

Brianna sat in silence as she considered everything that her aunt told her. Mates were always a tricky business with the elves. It was rare for one to find their destined mate. It was rarer still for an elf to marry them. For many in the royal family, one often met their mate when they were already married to another. In many cases, it went unrecognized.

"If I do marry him, then there's a high chance that I would stay in Arda for a long time," Brianna said softly.

Artemis smiled, "And you'll still be queen of the elves no matter where you are."

Brianna looked to the cloudy sky above and noted the snow flurries descending on Lorien. It would turn into rain as it entered Lorien's atmosphere thanks to Galadriel's tightly woven magic. Footsteps startled her out of her reverie and Brianna looked over her shoulder at Professor Moruni's approaching figure. The older elf woman looked from Brianna to Artemis and raised a thin, scarlet brow.

"You two seem pensive," she remarked.

"We had much to discuss," Artemis replied primly.

"Evidently," the professor looked to Brianna and nodded at the neat pile of notes next to her, "Are you ready?"

Brianna nodded and stood, "I'm ready."

"Then let's begin."

They climbed to the top of the hill and stood facing each other before Artemis and the professor stepped away from the center of the hill to give Brianna some space. Brianna lifted her arms to where they were level with her shoulders. The equation presented itself fully in her mind and she made it appear into the ground. Line by line. Numeral by numeral. Letter by letter. The world around her changed and, instead of entering into _enith gilthaes_ she allowed the element of wind to embrace her, consume her, and pass through her into the opening she created.

The world became wind and rune. For one, brief moment she saw The Great Expanse through the wind and the runes. It was vast, empty, and beautiful. There were gasses that made up nebulas. She witnessed the birth and death of stars. She saw the ongoing creation of life on other planets. In every brief moment, Brianna witnessed the hand of the Triune reaching out and shaping the universe into the image of his mind. With that expanse in mind she focused her attention on the decay created by the sorcery of her enemies.

Enemies of life.

Enemies of light.

Enemies of the Triune.

With that, she entered the entirety of the expanse and sang.

" **Se mo laoch mo ghile mear**

 **Bonnie boy, ghile maer**

 **You will be my gallant star**

 **Oh heys to me mo ghile mear**

 **In this land, this land unfree**

 **Ooh who will fein to unchain me**

 **My children keyed in vain for thee**

 **To break my chains for liberty**

 **Se mo laoch mo ghile mear**

 **Bonnie boy, ghile mear**

 **You will be my gallant star**

 **Oh heys to me mo ghile mear**

 **Mountains high, and valleys low**

 **The cuckoo sings of Saxon for**

' **Tis you must strike the mortal blow**

 **Mo ghile mear, mo buachaill beo**

 **Se mo laoch mo ghile mear**

 **Bonnie boy, ghile mear**

 **You will be my gallant star**

 **Oh heys to me mo ghile mear**

 **So come my love to battle come**

 **To this fair land so weary sung**

 **Let harp and song the valleys hum**

 **And sound the sound of freedom's drum**

 **Se mo laoch mo ghile mear**

 **Bonnie boy, ghile mear**

 **You will be my gallant star**

 **Oh heys to me mo ghile mear**

 **You will be my gallant star**

 **Oh heys to me mo ghile mear."**

 **(Mo Ghile Mear by Celtic Women *The "Voices of Angels" version)**

As she hit the high note a resounding movement echoed through the Great Expanse. Artemis and Professor Moruni joined in to add extra harmony. Their voices joined and the music consumed her every being as she changed the key into the next song.

" **The deepest solace lies in understanding**

 **This ancient unseen stream**

 **A shudder before the beautiful**

 **Awake ocean born**

 **Behold this force**

 **Bring the outside in**

 **Explore the self to epiphany**

 **The very core of life**

 **Is soaring higher of truth and light**

 **The music of this awe**

 **Deep silence between the notes**

 **Deafens me with endless love**

 **This vagrant island Earth**

 **A pilgrim shining bright**

 **We are shuddering**

 **Before the beautiful**

 **Before the plentiful**

 **We're the voyagers**

 **Tales from the seas**

 **Cathedral of greed**

 **The very core of life**

 **Is soaring higher of truth and light**

 **The music of this awe**

 **Deep silence between the notes**

 **Deafens me with endless love**

 **This vagrant island Earth**

 **A pilgrim shining bright**

 **We are shuddering**

 **Before the beautiful**

 **Before the plentiful**

 **We're the voyagers**

 **The unknown**

 **The grand show**

 **The choir of the stars**

 **Interstellar**

 **Theater play**

 **The nebula curtain falls**

 **Imagination**

 **Evolution**

 **A species from the veil**

 **As we wander**

 **In search of**

 **The source of the tale**

 **The music of this awe**

 **Deep silence between the notes**

 **Deafens me with endless love**

 **This vagrant island Earth**

 **A pilgrim shining bright**

 **We are shuddering**

 **Before the beautiful**

 **Before the plentiful**

 **We're the voyagers**

 **The music of this awe**

 **Deep silence between the notes**

 **Deafens me with endless love**

 **This vagrant island Earth**

 **A pilgrim shining bright**

 **We are shuddering**

 **Before the beautiful**

 **Before the plentiful**

 **We're the voyagers**

 **The music of this awe**

 **Deep silence between the notes**

 **Deafens me with endless love**

 **This vagrant island Earth**

 **A pilgrim shining bright**

 **We are shuddering**

 **Before the beautiful**

 **Before the plentiful**

 **We're the voyagers"**

 **("Shudder Before the Beautiful" by Nightwish from "Endless Forms Most Beautiful" Album)**

The foundations of the Expanse shook around her. The decay convulsed and writhed against the power she inflicted upon them. Brianna allowed the music she knew to accompany the lyrics to pour from her mind and into the wind. The wind echoed the music and made it real. As she sang, the music matched her, grew louder, greater, and became something more than Arda had ever produced.

" **I've got my will, I've got my heart**

 **Even though I can't tell her right now**

 **I could not stand if I failed**

 **I could not stand if I lost her somehow**

 **I found the book of silence**

 **So keen what it would show**

 **I read the book of silence**

 **How was I supposed to know**

 **My voice would fall asleep and**

 **Rest until this curse is banned and gone**

 **You hear my call**

 **Wide and tall**

 **Yes, i can be heard**

 **My Voice is strong**

 **Builds a wall**

 **Around every single Word**

 **I'm hunting high**

 **Hunting low**

 **I am everywhere**

 **My voice is there**

 **Fills the air**

 **My voice can be heard**

 **I try to open my mind**

 **He doesn't talk, still I'm blind**

 **I try to free all the meanings unknown**

 **I want her to look inside**

 **I cannot see in darkest nights**

 **Until my soul's freed and secrets unfold**

 **I found the book of silence**

 **So keen what it would show**

 **I read the book of silence**

 **How was I supposed to know**

 **My voice would fall asleep and**

 **Never wake again**

 **To surrender is not**

 **What I learned**

 **I'll fight 'gainst this curse 'til it's gone**

 **You hear my call**

 **Wide an tall**

 **Yes, I can be heard**

 **My voice is strong**

 **Builds a wall around**

 **Every single word**

 **I'm hunting high**

 **Hunting low**

 **I am everywhere**

 **My voice is there**

 **Fills the air**

 **My voice can be heard**

 **I'm riding**

 **Still I'm flying**

 **Everywhere that I can be**

 **I'm trying, believing**

 **My voice will speak again for me**

 **I don't want to speak**

 **I don't want to talk**

 **On every other day**

 **There are million miles to walk**

 **I've got nothing to tell**

 **I've got nothing to say**

 **Alone I fade away**

 **You hear my call**

 **Wide an tall**

 **Yes, I can be heard**

 **My voice is strong**

 **Builds a wall around**

 **Every single word**

 **I'm hunting high**

 **Hunting low**

 **I am everywhere**

 **My voice is there**

 **Fills the air**

 **My voice can be heard**

 **Yes, I will be heard**

 **My voice is there**

 **Fills the air**

 **My voice can be heard**

 **I'm riding**

 **Still I'm flying**

 **Everywhere that I can be**

 **I'm trying, believing**

 **My voice will speak again for me"**

 **("My Voice" by Van Canto from their "Tribe of Force" album)**

She grabbed them by their roots with her song. Her voice echoed throughout the Expanse and caused the atoms to tremble. They knew her, understood her presence, recognized her voice and what it meant. Brianna pushed through the darkness that clung to the devolving atoms. She directed her power, her grief, her rage at it's core and it began, ever so slowly, to break apart. Others joined in her song. She swore she heard Maf and Matt and Loki join her voice and sing with her. Karen, Artemis and the professor's voices joined her. They created body where body was needed. Brianna balled her hands into fists and launched into the final song she had planned for the completion of her quest.

" **Now there is no end**

 **The wheel will turn, my friend**

 **I'm in flames**

 **'Cause I have touched the light**

 **It pulls me so**

 **We shall be one forevermore**

 **That's all I want, it's all I need**

 **Everything is fixed**

 **There's no chance**

 **There's no choice**

 **It's calling me saidin**

 **So precious and sweet**

 **My mind keeps fading away**

 **It's scratching deeper**

 **My sole reliever**

 **How can I find you now?**

 **Passing through the flames**

 **I see how terror will rise**

 **It soon will be over**

 **O father of lies**

 **Like foul winds at twilight**

 **It's coming over me**

 **What was and what will be?**

 **What is? I don't know**

 **Driving me insane**

 **Just feel the heat**

 **Madness creeps in**

 **I'll tear it down**

 **There's no end**

 **Wheel of time**

 **It keeps on spinning**

 **There's no beginning**

 **Turn the wheel of time**

 **There's no beginning**

 **Just keep on spinning**

 **Light, it binds me**

 **Light, it blinds me**

 **Light, it finds me**

 **Light denies me now**

 **I creep along**

 **So desperate and tired**

 **Let me ask you why?**

 **I am what I am**

 **Prophecies, I am the chosen**

 **Ta'veren, the flame will grow**

 **Feel the heat, I'll keep on breathing**

 **After all there's no tomorrow**

 **Wheel of time**

 **Save my soul, find a way**

 **And if I fail, will it all be over?**

 **Oh, wheel of time**

 **The vision, so fleeting and vague**

 **Once again I will bring down the mountain**

 **One last glimpse**

 **It is constantly slipping away**

 **The young man said**

 **"I will never give up"**

 **The inner war**

 **I can hold against it**

 **My mind, my mind**

 **My mind's in darkness**

 **The young man says**

 **"I will never give in"**

 **The prophecy**

 **Behold it's true**

 **I conquer the flame**

 **To release the insane**

 **I'm crying, I cannot erase**

 **I'm the dragon reborn**

 **And in madness**

 **I soon shall prevail**

 **Twice I'll be marked**

 **And twice I shall live**

 **The heron sets my path**

 **And name me true**

 **Twice, I'll be marked**

 **And twice I shall die**

 **My memory's gone**

 **But twice I pay the price**

 **Wheel of time**

 **Save my soul, find a way**

 **May it be as the pattern has chosen**

 **Oh, wheel of time**

 **Turn the wheel of time**

 **It keeps on spinning**

 **There's no beginning**

 **There's no end, wheel of time**

 **There's no beginning**

 **Just keep on spinning**

 **Shine on**

 **Embrace and deny me**

 **Turn on, wheel of time**

 **Shine on**

 **You've burnt me, now guide me**

 **Wave on, wheel of time"**

 **("The Wheel of Time" by Blind Guardian from their "At the Edge of Time" Album)**

Euphoria enveloped her. Power embraced her. The darkness eroded and dispersed from the tears. Her voice repaired the tears and chased away the darkness until one, steadfast, bastion of evil remained. Brianna attacked it without mercy. It wouldn't budge. She raged and sang and caused her makeshift choir and instrumentals to bash against it. Still, the darkness wouldn't budge.

Finally, as every method failed her, Brianna allowed the song to die and her power receded from the Great Expanse. Exhaustion crippled her and bore her on all fours. Professor Moruni and Artemis ran up to her and grasped her arms. Brianna's head fell forward in defeat.

"I'm not finished," she muttered and knew no more.

* * *

 _January 14th - Night - The Mines of Moria_

Aragorn woke from her fitful slumber unable to divine what it was, exactly, that had rattled him so for several long moments. Then the vision which had passed through him returned and he remembered the vast expanse before him and the song that filled the very foundations of Arda. His skin felt feverish with sweat and shuddered with every quick, deep breath.

Gingerly, he sat up and buried his head in a shaking hand as he went over the fragments of whatever dream that plagued him. There was nothing but a sense of timelessness and song. After taking several moments to think on the matter, Aragorn realized that it was Brianna's song he'd heard and was effected by. She had been doing something with that song and it hadn't gone according to plan. The problem was that he couldn't divine what it was, exactly, that he'd witnessed.

A groan escaped his lips and Aragorn shifted in his pallet.

 _I witnessed something. I felt something and it all involves her. Why?_ He wondered.

"How are you fairing, my boy?"

Startled from his line of thinking, Aragorn glanced at Gandalf who sat at the edge of camp a few mere feet away. He rubbed his eyes and shifted his body towards the wizard.

"I… I can't say, Mithrandir," he said softly. "I feel as if I had a good dream and a nightmare. I've never felt anything quite like it," Aragorn said.

Gandalf nodded, "Yes, I suspect I know what it is you felt. I felt it's echo in my bones."

Aragorn blinked rapidly in an effort to dispel sleep from his mind, "Good or bad?"

Gandalf shook his head, "I cannot say. Possibly both. I will be able to read the situation better once we leave these wretched mines behind us."

Aragorn smiled ruefully at the thought. Oh he could not wait for that sweet moment when fresh, clean air met his nostrils! But, Aragorn didn't make this desire known. The only thing that mattered was getting Frodo, the ring-bearer, out of Moria and safely into fresh air once again so he could complete his quest. Such was their charge and purpose.

Even so…

"I heard _her_ , Gandalf. Why?" he asked.

Gandalf shrugged, "I couldn't begin to say, though I fear what hearing her song will mean. There are many who will endeavor to strike out against her to challenge it. I've heard her singing on several occasions and have pondered the many reasons why but have yet to arrive at a conclusive answer."

Troubled, Aragorn remained upright and deep in thought until morning finally arrived. What did the songs mean? More importantly, why could he hear them in the first place?


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28:**

 **Danger in the Dark**

 ** _Author's_ _Note:_** _Another quick stream of updates. I have a goal scene in mind that I want to write and, apparently, now that the moment is drawing nigh I am compelled to continue writing until I reach that scene. Anyway, I was intending to draw this out to the point where Gandalf and the Balrog have their little showdown, but realized that, as I was writing Aragorn's scenes, it wasn't going to fit comfortably in this chapter._

 _So, enjoy this quick update. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter updated soon as well._

 _Again, if you have any questions, comments or concerns, please submit a review and vent your grievances. I need to know what I screw up and if I've lost you as a reader!_

 _Thanks!_

* * *

 _January 15th - Lorien - The Healing Halls - Late Afternoon_

The comforting voices of Lady Galadriel and Arwen greeted her ears as her mind returned to the waking world. Her throat was scratchy and sore and her eyes felt as if they were bound together by thick cement. A small part of her longed to return to the blank comfort of her mind where sleep and rest gave the tempting promise of oblivion. The rest of her knew better than to give in. As she recalled the events that led to her losing consciousness the way she had, a sense of urgency strummed her veins.

The voices of Lady Galadriel and Arwen were unintelligible. For several long minutes Brianna quietly listened to them and attempted to make out their words. Her brows drew together the longer they spoke. Was something wrong with her ability to understand spoken language? Had her hearing suffered as well?

A particular word Brianna recognized from Ardanian elvish perked her ears and gave her the sought for answer. The lady and her granddaughter were speaking elvish and not common tongue. A certain dialect of Ardanian elvish was so far removed from the language Brianna had grown up learning that it was practically its own. She released a relieved sigh and the tension sparked from worry left along with it.

"She stirs. We will speak further on the subject, granddaughter, fear not. Until then, let us tend to our patient," said Lady Galadriel in the Common Tongue.

Brianna opened her eyes. Both elf ladies sat in wicker chairs next to her bed. She opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Galadriel shook her head.

"Your throat is heavily inflamed from the complex magic you used. It will need a few hours to heal," she said.

Well, good thing there were other ways to speak with the lady. Brianna reached out with her mind to touch Lady Galadriel's. The lady allowed her in once acknowledged.

I failed to mend all of them. There's a massive decay in the expanse around Arda in the East. I didn't have a chance to find it before my strength gave out, Brianna informed her.

Galadriel inclined her head and replied, I know. I looked into the mirror to see what remained. The decay is in Mordor.

Brianna's lips parted as the full implication of the decay's location settled on her. It had been terrible to touch and had left her remembering a sticky sensation in her mind. It had violently resisted her and attacked the song she'd chosen to use against. The decay was reinforced with another, fowler, song that was older than anything Brianna had experienced before.

I will resume fighting it when I finish recovering, she resolved.

Galadriel looked at her, sapphire eyes filled with sorrow, You may try, but I fear you will still fail. It is possible that the only way to combat the decay is to go directly to its source.

There weren't enough curse words in her vocabulary to adequately convey the depth of how screwed she felt she was. She laid in her bed thinking them over and over again until a healer came to test her progress and administer a soothing herbal tea. Brianna bore the rest of the day in resolute solitude. She sent away Artemis and Professor Moruni when they attempted to visit and speak with her. The only person she allowed to visit was Arwen and that was only because the cunning she-elf conned whichever elf was in charge of the healing ward to allow her to step in as Brianna's personal healer.

"You are succeeding in acting like an infant, Miss Davis," Arwen remarked while allowing Brianna's next installment of soothing tea to steep.

Brianna, still under her speech ban, shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest petulantly. Arwen raised a dark brow in a manner that was so like her father's that Brianna wondered if the elf had somehow projected himself into his daughter's mind merely to scold her. It seemed like something he would do. When the raised brow didn't disappear, Brianna sighed and grabbed a piece of parchment to write in the common language. She's spent enough time with Master Bilbo Baggins parsing out the written part of that language to find figure out the letters. Sentence structure was similar and they didn't do anything too different that she hadn't seen in Middle English.

She wrote, You don't have the prospect of going to Mordor and, consequently, the heart of all our enemies combined hanging over your head.

Arwen placed her hands on her hips and said, "That is correct, but how will isolating yourself from friends make a difference?"

It won't, Brianna wrote, they will want to discuss other things with me that I would rather not until the use of my voice is returned.

"Perhaps they wish to prepare for the council about to commence?" Arwen asked.

There's nothing that I can prepare them for that won't have me repeating myself tonight. And, I really would rather not talk about it, Brianna wrote.

Arwen didn't continue her line of questioning, but continued to treat her until early evening when she declared her patient inflammation-free and sent Brianna out of the healing halls and to her room. Later in the evening, after Brianna took the time to have a proper bath and fix her dress, she made her way to Galadriel and Celeborn's reception room to attend their small council. It was a moderately-sized room that held air warmer than that of the spring-like air outside. It's occupants consisted of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, Lord Glorfindel and Lady Arwen, Elrohir and Elladan, Professor Moruni, Artemis, and Brianna sitting in a circle of wooden chairs. No one ventured a comment for several long moments each hesitant to say the words that none of them wished to hear. Brianna sat straight-backed, hands resting lightly on the armrests, and her head held high. She studied each in turn and took care to keep her expression neutral. When she could handle the silence no longer, she closed her eyes and prepared to speak the small speech she'd prepared for the occasion.

Artemis beat her to it.

"Everything we did up to this point was to keep my niece from further danger and bring her home. Are you telling us that our efforts are futile and our queen must venture into the heart of the beast to sing a motherfucking song to him?" She asked with barely concealed rage.

Brianna watched Professor Moruni pinch the bridge of her nose and release an exasperated sigh. There were dark circles under her eyes. This fact surprised her. In all the days she'd known the elder elf, Brianna never knew her to show an inch of fatigue or exhaustion. The elf woman was a pillar of strength and wisdom for her people. She was older than most immortal beings on earth and, Brianna suspected, that she was older than most elves who inhabited Arda and hadn't crossed into the divine lands they called Valinor. Despite feeling sympathy for her mentor's exhaustion, Brianna didn't allow her expression to waiver. Even if her thoughts proved otherwise, in this moment it was better to put on a facade of strength instead of weakness.

Directly across from her Lady Galadriel seemed to have maintained a similar philosophy. The elf lady was younger than the professor, but was better at masking her emotions. Where the professor exuded a personality that shouted her presence to the world just by nature of her being there, Lady Galadriel commanded a quiet, graceful, respect to all who saw her. She was an authority, a ruler in her own right, earned from many years of struggle and experience. Sometimes those experiences revealed great wonder. At least, this is what she gathered from the limited time she'd had to observe the woman.

"We don't yet know that she'll need to go to Mordor, Artemis. We might be able to eradicate and repair the rest of the decay from here," Professor Moruni said pointedly. "Even if that does become the case, we'll deal with it as we've always have."

Brianna took her time observing her aunt. For as long as she'd known her, Artemis was composed, cool and collected. She was a graceful warrior with a keen eye for killing monsters of all kinds and ruled her hunters with a mix of stern compassion and an iron will that refused to break. With the mention of Hades and Aries, her typical composure was gone and was replaced with an air of concern she'd never once displayed for any to see.

"Last time we 'dealt with it' as you say, my sister and queen had to leave Earth just to recuperate from the curse Hades inflicted on her!" Artemis snapped. "Athena almost didn't make it, if you recall?"

Professor Moruni muttered something indistinguishable under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Brianna was also quite certain the language she used was ancient Greek from the way Artemis's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I'm aware of what happened. I'm equally aware of the fact that Aracasse isn't Athena and might actually have what it takes to kill them," Professor Moruni said, voice stern.

Brianna raised an eyebrow at this. Not just at the professor's liberal use of her true name, but also at what she revealed about her ancestor, Queen Athena. All accounts pointed to Queen Athena being a great warrior who had a mind for being cold and absolute in the destruction of her enemies. For Professor Moruni to say that the past queen was never well equipped to take out both uncle and brother was astonishing to say the least.

Artemis, in response pursed her lips and replied, "My sister had a code that she wouldn't break. That code kept her from killing them as she needed to."

"Yes, and now they're loose again," the professor said sternly.

For a moment, Brianna thought that Artemis would respond. She didn't. Instead, the huntress gripped the arms of her chair, narrowed her eyes at the professor, but kept further remarks to herself. It was an impressive display of self-control on her part, because her grey eyes burned with barely controlled anger. Silence descended like an iron curtain. Brianna met Lady Galadriel's eyes in this time. Her expression was kept carefully blank, but the emotion in her eyes was of grim certainty. Brianna resisted the urge to appear disquieted by her. Despite her appearance of strength, Brianna knew that the increasingly certain future struck a chord of fear in her heart that she couldn't allow to control her.

"Has any reconnaissance being conducted on the… expanse I believe you call it?" Glorfindel inquired.

Professor Moruni inclined her head, "I've searched a bit though not with as much depth as I would like. What has been mended will stay mended so long as the enemy remains distracted by a more appealing goal."

"The ring and our queen," Glorfindel guessed.

"Why do they want our queen?" Arwen asked, casting a fearful glance at Brianna.

"It would depend on who you ask," Professor Moruni responded. "Hades wants revenge on Zeus for taking what he believes is his rightful throne. Aries wants the throne and believes he always had a right to it from birth. He also wished to marry Athena and prop themselves up as the gods of our world. The Dark Lord merely wishes to subjugate her to his will and break her to prove a point. That is what we've gleaned so far, though I must admit that The Dark Lord's motives are mere conjecture. We don't know anything for certain."

I do, Brianna thought. If he breaks me, he breaks the power of one of the few races that can withstand him.

She clenched her jaw to keep herself from trembling at the thought. She couldn't decide which was worse and didn't want to think too much on the different ways they could subjugate and break her.

And there's only one way I can prevent it, she thought.

She didn't know how to feel about what Galadriel and Artemis encouraged her to do. It likely wouldn't be possible for her to see him again for many months and, by then, they would be embroiled into this terrible conflict.

"How do we keep the queen from their evil intentions?" Elrohir asked.

Brianna bit her tongue to keep herself from blushing. Professor Moruni glanced at her with knowing green eyes. Artemis remained stoic, though her angry posture abated somewhat.

Lady Galadriel looked straight at Brianna, making her squirm, as she replied, "She will need to join in flesh and soul with her destined one."

Brianna shifted, ever so slightly, in her seat. I can't believe we're talking about this now! She thought.

"That would, indeed, solve the problem. The only issue I can see is that we don't know who her mate is," Lord Celeborn said.

To her upmost mortification, Professor Moruni snorted in amusement. Artemis "tsk"ed, and Arwen, Glorfindel and her brothers exchanged knowing smiles. Lady Galadriel merely smiled, but did so in a way that didn't further her embarrassment.

"We have a good guess at who this person is," she said tactfully. "The issue is enabling such a union. It isn't certain that he will come here."

"Even if he does come to Arda to search for her, how do we propose to find him?" Lord Celeborn asked.

"He's already in Arda," Professor Moruni said smugly.

The silver-haired elf lord gaped at her and breathed, "Do you mean to say that another elf queen has met her destined one in Arda?"

"That would bring the number to a total of three," Glorfindel said easily and grinned at Brianna whose composure was crumbling with each embarrassing word.

"Ah, yes, the Queen Laurealasse had taken a mate many years before Queen Athena came to our world," Lord Celeborn remarked.

"An elf of little consequence, as I recall, though was later informed by Laurelie and Athena that he made a name for himself on Earth," Lady Galadriel remarked.

Brianna took the diverged subject for what it was: a chance for her to regain her composure. She tuned the rest of them out as they reminisced about her ancestor, the Great Queen Laurealasse, who was as tall as a man, thin as a willow, with golden-yellow hair that cascaded in long waves down her back to her knees. It was told that she was the fairest of all the elven queens to date and had the most control of enith gilthaes since the Great Flooding of the Earth. Her husband had been an elf from a distant land. He was plain for an elf, but was a skilled fighter with little to no ability to use magic. It was said that their union had introduced the Aldura eyes to that, particular, noble line, though only one child - the marked ruler - had it.

That had been almost seven thousand years ago, she thought. Athena would have arrived here about three thousand five hundred years ago in our time though I suspect time passes differently here than on Earth.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lord Celeborn asked, "Who is this destined one we're so certain of?"

Brianna blinked, startled out of her reverie, and clenched the armrests of her chair tightly. Lady Galadriel and Arwen looked to her as one, observed her discomfort with the subject at hand, and jointly cleared their throats.

"It may be best that we keep his identity to the few who know or suspect his identity," Arwen said graciously. "I understand everyone's mutual interest in the subject, but I would venture to believe that it might behoove us to keep his identity as much of a secret as we can."

All eyes turned to Brianna to gage her reaction to such a declaration.

Brianna, for her part, breathed in and said, "We're not certain of where he will be or whether or not he will come to Lorien during my time here. It's best we keep his identity a secret until he either comes to me, or I come to him."

"And if you come to him too late?" Glorfindel, who knew for certain the identity of Aragorn as we "mate",asked incredulously.

She clenched her jaw at the thought and replied, "It's a possibility that has been considered, but one we think has no weight. I'm… almost certain that I will see him before I have a chance to be brought before the enemy as a prized mare."

To her relief, no one questioned why she knew this; and, either those assembled knew of Galadriel's mirror, or none wished to inquire further. Brianna was grateful for this. There were many things that she didn't want to elaborate on regarding the visions of past, present and future to her current audience. The subject of Aragorn was a particular one she wanted to avoid, not only because the subject made her uncomfortable, but because of the fact that, had she never looked into the mirror and seen her emotionless future self burn him to death, she never would have witnessed the consequences of her rejecting him. The fact remained that, should the Fellowship come to Lothlorien as she and Galadriel suspected, Aragorn would certainly wish to solidify their bond as mates. If Brianna hadn't had concrete confirmation of what would become of her and the world then she would have rejected him.

The problem with that was how wrong it felt to enter into a life where she was, not only bound to him in oath and magic, but also in flesh and emotion. To have such a condition hanging over their heads unsettled her. Modern society told everyone who would listen - which was most people - that a couple should enter into a marriage for love and love only.

And modern society is equally as unhappy in their marriages because of it, a very annoying part of her mind that was completely for the logic of the idea reminded her.

She tapped the edge of her armrest in annoyance though was careful not to let it show on her face. The professor noticed; however, and raised an eyebrow that clearly asked "what's wrong with you?" Brianna didn't make an attempt to respond. They would speak later.

"Should there not first be a betrothal?" Lord Celeborn asked.

"I do agree that it would be better if there was an engagement, but the situation as it stands may require haste over propriety," Professor Moruni said.

Brianna bit the inside of her cheek once again to keep herself from mentioning that she and Aragorn possibly had an understanding. It was a true statement, but it didn't explain most of it. They understood each other when they last met.. They understood that it was best not to speak of their mutual regard for the other. They understood that no union would be possible for them.

"We should first test all avenues before we make such a hasty decision," Lord Celeborn advised. "It will not do to rush into any course of action without knowing the entirety of the facts. In any case, the other half of the dialogue isn't present to give his input on the matter."

"Agreed," said Glorfindel, "we can't proceed without verifying that the decay in Mordor can't be expunged and the breech healed."

Before further discussion could continue, Brianna held up her right hand. All potential responses died and all eyes turned their full attention to her.

"I will look into the situation, myself, with no help from anyone else. Only one of us need enter the expanse. Who better than I?" she said with an air of finality that brooked no room for argument.

"And if you can do nothing else?" Lady Galadriel asked.

Brianna met her eyes, "Then I will do what needs to be done to ensure the safety of the world."

She looked to her fellow elves from earth as she lowered her hand. Professor Moruni looked resigned but unsurprised by the direction Brianna's thoughts had taken her. Artemis looked as if she fervently wished to argue the decision. Their eyes met and Brianna shook her head. The lady huntress pursed her lips, but kept her dissent to herself. They would speak later.

Professor Moruni, who observed the exchange, nodded in agreement, "Then let us reconvene after my apprentice double checks her work."

* * *

 _January 15th - Late Morning - Moria - The Tomb of Balin_

The day had begun with a sliver of hope Aragorn hadn't chanced to believe. Gandalf seemed to have made an accurate guess as to where he was and the company were and they no longer trekked through pitch-dark caverns. The path was almost clear and soon they would be out of the mines. Once they left, Aragorn's mind would ease just a little bit from the overbearing feeling that they'd ventured into a cesspool of evil. Then, shortly after breakfast, Gandalf led them into the northernmost arch logically seeking a window that could allow him to regain his bearings. Through the arch and down a long corridor, was a room that harbored the tomb of Balin, the last dwarf lord of Moria. As Gandalf gravely read the words from the last remaining book in what was recognized the be the Chamber of Marzabul - the hall of records - that spelled the fate of the brave dwarves who had led their final attempt to retake Moria from the evil that dwelt within. It was not a kind fate and it prompted Aragorn to begin inspecting the room from where he stood looking for clever hiding places and exits. Nothing existed in the room any longer the company could use to hide themselves in case of an attack and the only exits were the partially opened stone door they'd entered the room through and a little door on the eastern side of the room.

While Gandalf leafed through the pages of the old book, Aragorn stepped over to the little door and carefully slide it open. The corridor beyond was dark and seemed to lead away from the great hall harboring the northern archway. As the wizard read and the others listened morbidly enraptured by the horrific words written by the dwarf identified as Ori, Aragorn continued inspecting the room. His disquiet from the past few days grew with each word uttered and caused his mind to recall the last time he was in Moria. The darkness, the goblins, the horrors unimaginable with an ever-growing awareness of a dark presence waiting deep within the mines hoping to catch him unawares and snuff out his life.

"… the end comes and then drums, drums in the deep. I wonder what that means. The last thing written is in a trailing scrawl of elf-letters: they are coming. There is nothing more," Gandalf read.

Aragorn paled. He looked to Legolas who seemed to have come to a similar conclusion and was looking at him with an expression of equal horror.

"We are not alone here," mouthed the elf.

Aragorn inclined his head to affirm the elf's theory and looked at Gandalf whose expression was grave. The wizard glanced around the room as if taking everything in and then turned his attention to Gimli.

"They seem to have made a last stand by both doors and so ended the valiant but foolish attempt to retake Moria. Alas but it was not yet time. Now, I fear we must say farewell to Balin son of Fundin," the wizard muttered sadly before looking to Gimli and holding out the tattered book. "You had better keep this and take it back to Dain should you get a chance. It will interest him though grieve him deeply."

Gimli, strangely subdued, accepted the precious last words of Balin and those brave companions who ventured to take back such a cursed hall. Aragorn watched Gandalf as he rose to his feet, staff in hand, and turned back to the door they'd come through.

"Come! Let us go as the morning is passing and I have no wish to remain!" Gandalf said gruffly. "I now know where we are and the gates are close."

Aragorn had his hand on the pommel of his sword before he heard the sound that froze his blood.

 _Doom!_

 _Doom!_

 _Doom!_

The sounds of hastily padding footsteps reached his ears. They were armored, calloused, and clawed.

Goblins! Aragorn thought as if it were a curse. And here are we trapped in this cave like animals awaiting slaughter!

A horn blared a loud, long note. The hobbits scrambled back from the door and huddled against the tomb. Aragorn, instinctively, moved in front of them.

Legolas drew his sword and cried, "They are coming!"

"Slam the doors and wedge them!" Aragorn said urgently. "Keep your packs on as long as you can should we get a chance to cut our way out!"

"No!" cried Gandalf. "Keep the east door ajar! We will go that way if we get a chance!"

At the sound of another horn the harsh cries of their enemies rang out as they passed under the northern arch and into the wide hall leading out of the room. As one the company drew their swords. Boromir set his shoulder against the western door and prepared to shove it shut. Gandalf rushed to the door.

"Wait a moment!" Gandalf ordered and drew himself up to his full height and cried out,"Who comes hither to disturb the rest of Balin, Lord of Moria?"

Hoarse laughter met their ears. Aragorn's grip on the hilt of Anduril tightened. His eyes narrowed as the sound of the drums reverberated in the room. Gandalf moved in front of the narrow opening and shined the light of his staff down the length of the corridor. He sprang back a moment later as arrows whistled down the corridor toward him.

"There are a group of orcs hovering near the back of the corridor. Something larger is behind them. Cave trolls, I think. There's no hope of escape that way," the wizard informed them.

"There will be no hope at all if they come through the east door," Boromir said.

"I saw and heard nothing outside the eastern door. The passage on this side plunges straight down a stair and plainly doesn't lead back towards the hall. However, I don't think its wise to fly blindly down this passage with pursuit just behind us," Aragorn said. "We must do something to delay the enemy first."

The sound of quick-pounding feet thudded down the hall beyond the western door. Boromir shoved, hard, against the door and shut it. He and Gimli scuttled across the ground wedging broken swords and splinters of wood into the door's cracks. The company moved back from the door to the other side of the room once they were finished and waited.

They didn't wait long.

An arm, big, burly and dark with green scales, thrust through the opening gap. Boromir sprang forward and attempted to slice the arm off, but his sword reverberated as it bounced off the green scales. Frodo followed soon after with a shout and stabbed his little sword, Sting, into the hideous foot pushing through the wedged door. A loud bellow shook the room and the foot jerked back.

"One for the Shire! Well done Frodo!" Aragorn said.

Shortly after such praise left his lips, Aragorn heard a crash against the door. Then another and another followed quickly after. Dust and dirt fell from the ceiling. Aragorn fell into a stance, making sure to put himself between the door and the hobbits, and waited. The door burst open and orc after orc strode into the room. Aragorn struck each of them with the deadly accuracy gained from centuries of fighting. His breath quickened with the fire and the rage building within. The well of fear and dread was forgotten and his blood sang for the lives of orcs. Anduril's blade flared with a subtle flame that singed the dark skin of each orc that came for him and the hobbits.

When thirteen had fallen, the rest fled the room shrieking obscenities in their foul language. Gandalf stepped toward the eastern gate.

"Let us go quickly before the troll returns!" breathed Gandalf.

Aragorn motioned to the hobbits to run for the door, but before they could reach it another contingent of orcs stepped through the western opening. One particular orc - something that Aragorn assumed to be a chieftain of sorts - charged into the room wielding a great spear and shield. With his shield the orc battered away Boromir's sword and threw the man to the ground. Aragorn, grunting with the rage that had built with each altercation, swung at the orc's head. The orc ducked out of the path of his sword and charged into the company before Aragorn could recover and thrust its spear into Frodo's side. Frodo cried out as the spear pushed him from the ground and pinned him against the nearest wall.

Aragorn's heart skipped a beat before he turned fully and charged his adversary. An enraged cry escaped him just as Sam's sword broke the orc's spear in half. Aragorn swung Anduril onto the orc's head before it could draw its sword. Flame flashed and the orc's helm burst into pieces as Anduril's blade cleaved through its head. The rest of the orcs fled the room. Aragorn made to follow after them with Boromir hot on his heels when Gandalf stopped them.

"No! Now is the last chance! Run for it!"

Aragorn stopped, turned,sheathed his sword and ran to where Frodo lay. He scooped the hobbit into his arms and made for the stair. Without a second thought, he pushed Merry and Pippin in front of him and waited for Boromir to push the door open.

"I'm all right!"

Aragorn nearly dropped the hobbit suddenly writhing in his arms. Frodo looked up at him, wide blue eyes alight with urgency, as he insisted that he could walk.

"I thought you were dead!" Aragorn said, astonished.

"Not yet!" snapped Gandalf. "There is no time to wonder! Wait for me a few minutes at the bottom! Go! Quickly!"

Aragorn set Frodo on his feet and the two charged out of the narrow hole Boromir had made along with the rest of the company. Gandalf stayed behind with his sword drawn and staff alight. As Aragorn descended the stairs the dread returned to the forefront of his mind. It was so strong that he nearly stumbled in his step, but managed to keep the rhythm of his feet against the steps steady.

Something comes, he thought, and I fear what it might be.

As he descended into pitch-black passage with Frodo before him, Aragorn looked over his shoulder and saw the comforting light of Gandalf's staff glimmering through the cracked doorway.

He resisted his heart urging him to turn back. Frodo's life was, ultimately, more important than Gandalf's.


End file.
